Of Inconsistencies and Continuities
by Inix Cruz
Summary: PART IV UP. Quinn can't make up her mind about everything, especially about Rachel being with Finn. So what happens? Quinn's mind makes up its own. If that makes any sense. Serial Killer!Quinn. Lion!Quinn. Zombie Apocalypse!Quinn. Dork!Quinn. Faberry.
1. Part I

Author's Note: This is based on a prompt I found on **alsoimanerd**'s Tumblr. This features** fiercezucchini**'s Lion!Quinn, Zombie Apocalypse!Quinn, Dork!Quinn, and Serial Killer!Quinn. It's sort of a crack!fic, but it's not at the same time. I've defied all laws of nature in this one. Big thanks to **Miko Akako**. Seriously, you are an awesome beta. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

><p>Of Inconsistencies and Continuities<p>

Part I

* * *

><p>Quinn didn't know why, but ever since she had woken up at her usual time, she <em>still <em>had a damn headache. Not any mundane headache where she could just relieve it with two painkillers and apply Head-On—not that the product worked anyway—all over her forehead, though. If Quinn were to describe it, it was a sidesplitting, excruciating kind of headache that would rival every headache combined in the world. It was that bad.

She assumed this was karma. Her latest bacon binge eating in front of a television showing reruns of _Pokémon_ while plotting her latest ploy against Shelby last night was not good for her mind and body and maybe this was nature's way of saying that she should just kill herself before she went crazy. Or maybe she _was_ crazy. After all, Quinn was going back and forth between a manipulating bitch to being a genuine person who liked being around glee club.

Okay, that last part was a lie.

Her real intention was just to be around Rachel. She had Finn to do all that, much to her distaste of the boy. Plus the fact that her plan of talking Rachel out of sleeping with the gigantic jock didn't turn out so well, she was even more a mess than she was.

Damn her, Tina. Just damn her.

But it was all Rachel's goddamn fault with her goddamn pouty lips and her adorable laugh and her sexy lip biting action and her flirty smiles and her amazing voice and her big, beautiful brown eyes and her flawless legs that tempted Quinn since day one to lick her in so many different kinky ways in all the inappropriate places and-

Quinn growled under her breath at the thought of Finn being the first one that touched Rachel. She was supposed to be Quinn's and Quinn's alone. Why didn't she make the first move? She was not a weakling. Finn was a lumbering T-Rex compared to her—

Oh, God. It hurt.

But screw Finn. It was now or never. She should win Rachel's heart. Maybe she should have gotten her a flower or something. Like a _Pokémon_ flower with a note saying, "I choose you". That would make Rachel melt. Or maybe a limited edition twenty-three karat gold plated trading card. Or maybe—

It fucking hurt.

Maybe she should have stuck with pink hair, being badass and all. She would get a katana and a shotgun to complete the look. Maybe a pair of _Mamba_ pistols and an _M249 SAW_. And a _Ducati_. Rachel would fall for her. She would.

Wait, did Finn just look like a zombie just now—

Shit!

Quinn's head was now pounding in pain. It was not a good time for thinking about Rachel and… what was she thinking about before Rachel again?

Just looking at Finn made it even more insufferable. She had the sudden urge of killing him, like stabbing him in the back with a hunter knife.

No. That would be too quick for her taste. Maybe dousing him in gasoline and lighting him up would satisfy her.

No. That would be too clean. Maybe cutting him up limb by limb with a butcher knife would do.

Yes. Messy was good. And it would be painful and—

"Oh, God." Quinn raised her hands to the both sides of her head, chanting, "Just make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop."

"Quinn? Are you alright? Your skin color is more pallid than usual. Do you want to sit this game out?"

There were many voices talking—fighting?—in her head all at once, telling her that Rachel's presence was right there beside her with her soft, delicate hand on the small of her back.

Quinn stared at the dodge ball in Rachel's other hand as her arms flopped back down to her sides.

It resembled a Pokéball just now.

Ignoring her current notion, she looked up and as always, Rachel was breathtaking. She sighed inside and the throbbing pain subsided.

She managed out a, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rachel tilted her head, a line forming between her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

Quinn nodded, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Hey, Rach, what's up with Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes shut, trying to not think. It was Finn. And the pain was back in full force.

Quinn winced, trying to fight back a growl threatening to come out of her mouth. Quinn ground her teeth, her jaw clenched as she tried to act like she was fine. All the effort from it made her sweat.

"Yes, I… think she's fine."

Quinn opened her eyes and tried to cast a glance on—

A T-Rex.

_Blink._

A zombie.

_Blink._

A soon-to-be victim.

_Blink._

A Magikarp.

_Blink._

Finn.

"What do the hell do you want, Finn?" Quinn asked. She didn't want to come off as bitchy but she couldn't help it. "I told Berry I'm fine. So just back off."

Finn backed away and Rachel's eyes widened.

"Whoa, Quinn," Puck said, approaching the trio. "Just chill alright? Finn didn't do anything to you."

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes. Ugh, even rolling her eyes hurt like hell. Before they could even go further to their conversation, the whistle blew, gathering everyone's attention.

* * *

><p>Well, good news was, the headache was gone. The bad news was that she was roaring and dancing around like some spaz on the court, she was having hallucinations of zombies, animals, blood, and Pokéballs flying around. All at the same time.<p>

She was going bipolar—no, she was going quadrupolar, if that was even a word.

Quinn was gone. Sort of.

All she cared about right now was Rachel, who was a very easy target. She would be hers soon. She grabbed a Pokéball from the ground and threw it at her with a roar.

And time just stopped. Literally.

And when Quinn clamped the ball between her right arm and side, intent on keeping her somewhere where no T-Rex had gone before, she ran out of the gym. And when she ran out of the gym, everything moved again.

Everyone was left there scratching their heads and looking around.

No one noticed the red flash. No one noticed Rachel being sucked into the ball. No one noticed that it defied just about everything in this world.

And no one would notice that what would happen after that was even more impossible.

Because in the secluded hallways of McKinley, Quinn's body went limp and lifeless, her eyes rolling back as her vision then faded to black.

* * *

><p>Dork Quinn all but ran, trying to find the safe place for her new catch that was Rachel. A few more hallways and she would be free.<p>

"I think you have something that's… mine," Serial Killer Quinn said with a smirk, not even looking up at Dork Quinn. Instead, she admired how the knife just fit in her grip. "Give it to me."

"No." Lion Quinn appeared out of nowhere with a growl. "Jewfasa is mine."

"Christ. Put some clothes on, will you?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn also appeared out of nowhere with her shotgun and katana slung over her right shoulder. "And yeah, give me Rachel."

Dork Quinn was cornered, but she wasn't going to give up. She had Rachel within the palms of her hands—literally.

She turned her Ash Ketchum cap backwards, turned on her heel, and ran the other way. Lion Quinn chased after her all the while shouting, "Jewfasa is mine! You do not challenge the Lion Quinn!"

"Oh dear." Serial Killer Quinn shook her head, her smirk still in place. She ran her fingertip across the sharp blade. "She's making this even more exciting."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn fished out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Serial Killer Quinn laughed and promenaded down the hallway opposite to where Dork Quinn went. "May the best Quinn win?"

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn placed the lit cigarette between her lips, sipping the gas. "You know—" smoke blowing out as she said those words. "—that's not the right way."

"I know." Serial Killer Quinn, not bothering to look at her direction and just continued walking, distancing herself further and further from her other self. And that was all she said as she disappeared.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn stood there for a while, running her hand through her pink hair and at the same time deciding whether she should follow a deranged person that was going to kill her if she wasn't careful or a naked person running around the school that was going to violate her in a very disturbing way.

And with that, she unsheathed her katana and went through the hallway where Serial Killer Quinn went.

* * *

><p>A relieved Dork Quinn made it to the somehow already unlocked car unscathed with the Pokéball. With a grin, she felt her pockets.<p>

"Looking for these?"

Dork Quinn froze in place, catching a glimpse of Serial Killer Quinn jangling her keys using the rearview mirror.

"How did you—"

"Oh, I have my ways," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"Oh, please," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, lighting another cigarette within the enclosed space. "It was at the gym."

She stared at Zombie Apocalypse Quinn. "Do you want me to put you on my list?" Serial Killer Quinn drummed her fingers on the white binder she was carrying around.

"Sure." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn shrugged, exhaling out the smoke. "But just remember, I have the bigger sword here."

"Look, I'm not going to give you Rachel," Dork Quinn said before she rolled down her side of the window, glancing at the the glove box compartment ever so often. The smoke was suffocating her. "Even if it kills me. I won't give her to you."

"Well, that can be arranged," Serial Killer Quinn said, her knife glinting in the sun. Dork Quinn gulped. Maybe she shouldn't have said that.

"So you're just going to kill yourself that easily?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked. "She's just as much as a part of us as we are a part of her."

"You kill zombies, so why do you care?" Serial Killer Quinn twirled the hilt between her index finger and thumb. "All I care about is Rachel."

"I care about Rachel, too," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said. "But you're probably going to kill everyone who's going to look at her. Even if they're innocent. At least _I'm_ going to protect her from evil. She should be with me."

"So, basically you two are going to put Rachel in danger?" Dork Quinn asked. This was Rachel they were talking about. "She should be with me. At least she's going to have fun with me. We're going to have video game marathons and go on road trips and go to conventions and stuff."

"Please," Serial Killer Quinn said, putting her knife back between the pages of her blood splattered binder. "You have her encased in a red and white ball. How is she going to have fun?"

"Guys."

"At least Rachel wouldn't have to hide in some sick, demented basement you're going to put her in and molest her."

"Guys."

"I would never do that to her. We will have a beautiful life together. Unlike you."

"Guys."

"Are you implying that I don't have a life?"

"Of course. Look at that. What is that? A stripper?"

A gasp. "This is a limited edition Lopunny T-shirt."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn rolled her eyes. She took the cigarette out from her lips and flicked the hot cigarette ash on both of their arms.

"Hey! What gives?" Dork Quinn dusted them off with one hand, the embers stinging her.

Serial Killer Quinn didn't even budge, looking at Zombie Apocalypse Quinn. "I'm going to kill you if you do that one more time."

"As much as I want to argue that Rachel should be with me…." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn pointed straight ahead. "Look."

And there, Lion Quinn sprinted straight towards them. "Jewfasa is mine!"

With a pounce, she landed right in front of the car with a sickening_ thud_.

"I was wondering where she disappeared," Serial Killer Quinn said, after Lion Quinn face planted on the window shield.

"Okay, even though we have the same, well, everything." Dork Quinn grimaced, turning on the wipers to fend off Lion Quinn. "I do _not_ want to see that."

"We have to get her inside the car," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she watched Lion Quinn break the wipers in half with ease.

"No way," Dork Quinn said, leaning back on her seat and shielded herself with arms when Lion Quinn scratched the window as if it was going to get her in the car. "I am not going to put that… _thing_ in the car."

"I hate to say it, but I have to agree with her," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"There's no point in fighting with me. The lumbering idiot's here."

Sure enough, there was Finn looking for his girlfriend and shouting her name like that was going to help. He still didn't notice the four of them, though.

"I can kill him right now, you know," Serial Killer Quinn said, rolling out a surgical set of knives out of her binder. How many knives could that binder hold? "I already have an x-ray of his whole body. I can kill him as slowly and as painfully as possible."

"No. Just no. Too messy."

"Messy is good." And once again, the demented smirk was on her lips. "I can finally have his head and have it displayed in my room."

"And have the whole school discover the rest of Finn's dead body on the parking lot?"

Serial Killer Quinn shrugged, the smirk still in place. "I'm just suggesting."

"And once again, no," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said and looked at Dork Quinn. "Get her in the car."

"But—ugh. Fine." She reached out through the already open window—why didn't Lion Quinn go through here anyway?—and tried to grab Lion Quinn's arm to pull her in.

"Ow!" Dork Quinn retracted her left arm and gawked at the both of them. "She bit me!"

"You're such a baby," Serial Killer Quinn said.

Dork Quinn pouted. "Well you do it, then."

"Why should I do it?"

"We don't have _time_ for this," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said and got out of the car. She threw the cigarette away and gripped Lion Quinn's arm, getting her out of the hood.

"You cannot tame the Lion Quinn!"

"Oh, just shut up. And stop yelling," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said. She wasn't as strong as Lion Quinn but her reflexes were much faster, so that was a major advantage on her part when she tried to bite her shoulder. With a skillful push through the open window, Lion Quinn flopped face first on Dork Quinn's lap. "There. Now drive and let's meet up at our house. We'll settle this once and for all."

"Oh, God." Dork Quinn put her hands up and turned her head away, cringing as she did so. "Can you get her off of me?"

Serial Killer Quinn decided to work with Dork Quinn this time. Finn was getting closer. With Lion Quinn strapped with two seatbelts tied around by Serial Killer Quinn like a straitjacket and Dork Quinn was given the car keys to start the ignition, they were ready.

"You getting in or what?" Dork Quinn asked after she had started the car.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn shook her head and pointed at the lone motorcycle on the parking lot with her thumb. Dork Quinn and Serial Killer Quinn nodded.

With that, Zombie Apocalypse Quinn jogged towards the _Ducati_ and straddled it. With a flick of a wrist on the key, the engine hummed to life.

"Show off," Dork Quinn muttered when Zombie Apocalypse Quinn did a wheelie before she sped through the campus and to the road.

"I cannot be restrained! You have Jewfasa! She's mine! She's—"

Serial Killer Quinn muffled any Lion Quinn's protests with another seatbelt tied around her jaw. "There."

* * *

><p>One of the few things that also changed was her room. Quinn Fabray's room wasn't like Quinn Fabray's room anymore.<p>

With the exception of the bed, it was as if it was split into four, as if it entered into four different dimensions at once—closets containing different clothes, a gaming station and collectibles, a makeshift space that resembled something that was for surgery and corpses, another space that stored weapons, and….

"A rock? What's a rock doing here?" Dork Quinn asked, approaching it after she had tossed the ball onto the bed.

Serial Killer Quinn shrugged, running her fingertips through the cool stainless steel countertop.

"No," Lion Quinn said, smacking her hand when Dork Quinn reached out to touch it. "Mine."

"Why you little—"

"If you start fighting, I might have to nail you two on the wall."

"…Fine." Dork Quinn gave one last glare to Lion Quinn as she rubbed the back of her hand before turning around and walking over to her gaming corner.

* * *

><p>"What took you so long?" Dork Quinn asked, her eyes never leaving the television screen, when Zombie Apocalypse Quinn sat down on the floor next to her. A now dressed Lion Quinn was on the bed chewing on the Pokéball Rachel was in, much to Dork Quinn's amusement. Serial Killer Quinn was there by the window, scribbling new ways of killing Finn on her binder.<p>

"This." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn showed her a packed box.

"Just die already," Dork Quinn whispered at the game before pressing pause. _Assassin's Creed_ would have to wait. She looked at the box and at her. "What is it?"

"Just open it."

With one single rip, a _Call of Duty: Black Ops Limited Edition_ case was there in front of her.

"No way," she breathed out. "How did you get this?"

"Just don't ask," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said before snatching it back. "So will this get me Rachel?"

"Wait… you're bribing me?"

"You're bribing her?"

Even Lion Quinn had to stop gnawing her way through the ball.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn stood up and raised an eyebrow at Serial Killer Quinn. "Problem?"

"Of course there's a problem." Serial Killer Quinn also stood, putting her binder down on the bed. She approached Zombie Apocalypse Quinn. "You were the one who's being all civil in the car and now you're playing dirty?"

"I'm just using tactics," she said, now face to face with Serial Killer Quinn. "You're just jealous that you didn't think of it in the first place."

"Okay, as much as I want that," Dork Quinn said, also standing up. "Rachel's mine and you all can't have her."

"Jewfasa is mine!" Lion Quinn jumped off the bed. "She's always meant to be with me. Not with some—"

All four were squaring off in the room when they all realized something. Or someone to be exact.

Finn Hudson.

"I guess we're all missing the big picture here," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said when everyone went dead silent. "We actually forgot about Finn."

Serial Killer Quinn nodded. "We may be different but we have a common enemy."

"Yeah, we should get rid of him," Dork Quinn said.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn looked at each and every one of them. "We may want Rachel as much as the next Quinn, but we don't know about Rachel wanting us. We have to get rid of Finn. I love her and he just doesn't deserve her. She deserves me."

"You mean us," Serial Killer Quinn crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other foot. "Not exactly the kind of pep talk I want to hear."

"We have to team up."

"We have to protect Jewfasa."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn agreed. "I guess that's settled then."

"We should have a name for our group," Dork Quinn said with a grin. "Like _Squad 7_."

"Do we really have to?" Serial Killer Quinn rolled her eyes, pulling out a peeling knife. "We should just go and skin him alive right now. Or I could castrate him. That would be entertaining."

"Just exactly how many kinds of knives do you have?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked.

"I'd show you." Another deranged grin and a sadistic sparkle in her eyes. "But then I'd have to kill you."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Lion Quinn jumped up and down, flailing around. "Lion Quinn needs Jewfasa right now."

"Oh, right." Dork Quinn gave out a sheepish grin, grabbing the ball before releasing it as if she was burnt. She glared at Lion Quinn. "Did you really have to slobber all over it?"

"Jewfasa is my territory."

* * *

><p>Rachel was sure she was dreaming. Sure, she didn't have any recollection of what happened during the dodgeball game but she was sure that their explanation was ludicrous.<p>

There were four of them in front of her.

She was tied to a chair.

Yup. Rachel was dreaming.

"You're not dreaming, Rach. There are really four of us in front of you," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, holding Lion Quinn down in her seat so she wouldn't pounce on Rachel.

Rachel burst out laughing. "Okay, okay. I need to wake up right now."

Serial Killer Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You're awake, I assure you that."

"Okay, so this is not a dream?"

"It's not a dream."

Rachel nodded. Maybe the dream would end if she would just roll with it. "Okay, so this is not a dream. And there are four of you?"

"Yes, there are four of us. We are four of the many personalities of Quinn Fabray. You can call us the FABRAYS collectively. It means Forces Against Berry, Rachel Avoiding Your Seduction."

"I'm the one who thought that up," Dork Quinn said with a proud grin.

"Wait, wait. What do you mean by four of the many personalities? You mean there are more of you in here right now?" Rachel surveyed the room, anticipating for another batch of Quinn Fabrays to come out of the closet or something.

"Well, yes and no. There are only four of us. But the others aren't here."

"What?"

"It's kind of hard to explain. Let's just say we're the most… needed at the moment," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"And why are four of you needed?"

"It's because we're here to protect you," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said.

"And you're here to protect me from…?"

"From the T-Rex! Lion Quinn must protect you from the T-Rex!"

Rachel's brow crinkled. "What? Who?"

"She meant Finn," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"And why, pray tell, should you protect me from Finn?"

"Because he doesn't deserve you. You need to break up with him."

Rachel laughed harder after a short pause. The four of them frowned at the reaction. "This is ridiculous. This is a dream. It must be a dream."

"I'll kiss you to prove that this is real," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, smiling at her.

"What? Oh, no way you're going to, stud! You can't just charm your way through! You're an opportunist, you know that?"

"If any one of us should kiss Rachel first, it should be me," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"Lion Quinn must mate with Jewfasa right now!"

In the midst of the heated argument, Rachel Berry decided to maybe just fall off from the window and maybe that way, she could wake up and get back to Finn. She shimmied out of the loose rope tied around her torso and arms, falling backwards as she did so.

"Ow," Rachel sat up before her hands planted on the ground to support herself. The pain made her doubt even more that this was a dream.

All four of them turned to the sound, stopping midsentence.

"Hey, Rach? You alright?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn was the first one beside her, her hand on her shoulder.

"Do you need painkillers or anesthesia?" Serial Killer Quinn was also on the left side, her hand on her forehead. "I have them, just so you know."

"Maybe we could play video games." Dork Quinn was squatting right in front of her, grasping her hand. "It always makes me feel better whenever I fall down or get hurt."

"You're hurt." Lion Quinn was also behind her, her chin resting on her free shoulder. She looped her arms around her waist and sniffed her hair. "I won't let the ground hurt you again."

Rachel blushed, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around at the undivided attention she was given. The fact that she had this effect on _all_ four of Quinn Fabrays was flattering.

"Oh my God," Rachel whispered. Her eyes broadened. The touches were too real. Much too real. "This is real."

It couldn't be. She was here with _four_ Quinn Fabrays. This was all too much. She needed to go home.

* * *

><p>"Great, now you three scared her away," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she peered through the window, watching Rachel power walk through the neighborhood. She wanted that damn kiss. Was it too much to ask? Just a three-second kiss. Maybe not a three-second kiss. Maybe an hour? Screw that. A whole day would be great.<p>

"I can't believe you tied the rope like that!" Dork Quinn yelled, pacing around the room. "Because of you, she ran away!"

"I can't possibly tie the rope tightly around her," Serial Killer Quinn said. "It would hurt her delicate, beautiful honey skin."

Dork Quinn stopped and glared at her. "Well newsflash, genius, she still got hurt when she fell down."

"You will pay for hurting my Rachel!"

"Try me." Serial Killer Quinn grinned at them and Dork Quinn and Lion Quinn couldn't help but get goose bumps from that alone. Serial Killer Quinn took out a cleaver. "I'd hack your bones off first before you're able to do that. And then there will be two less people I'll have to worry about. Also, I won't have to share Rachel that much when it comes to eating her out."

"Eat her out." Just from those words alone, Lion Quinn licked her lips as if she could already taste Rachel.

Dork Quinn stammered out a, "Eat… eat her out?"

"Why yes." Serial Killer Quinn grin grew wider. "Eat her out. She'll taste lovely. And she'll look amazing in bed with her eyes shut tightly and mouth open when I drive into her with a strap-on, my name only the sounds coming out from her lips."

Dork Quinn could feel all of her blood rush to her face at that. Oh, God. Did Serial Killer Quinn just sound poetic? But thinking about it made her conclude that sweet, ravishing sex with Rachel Berry would be a gazillion times better than the time when she had gotten through The Labyrinth in _God of War 3_ in one trial without a walkthrough.

"You're drooling."

Dork Quinn blinked and scowled at Serial Killer Quinn, wiping the drool off of her face. "No way am I going to let you violate Rachel with you and your kinks. I will, at least, take it slow with her."

"What do you know about sex anyway?"

"I-I know enough," Dork Quinn said.

Serial Killer Quinn laughed. "Huh. Right."

"Lion Quinn will dominate and mate with Jewfasa first!"

"While I do say that my combination of end-of-the-world sex and live-like-we're-dying sex with Rachel Berry will trump all of yours…." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn turned around to look at the three. "We're basically back to fighting for Rachel and who gets to fuck her senseless first, and we haven't done anything yet."

"So?" Dork Quinn sat down on the bed. Lion Quinn did the same and crossed her arms with a huff.

"So we need a foolproof plan on winning Rachel first before we can do any of that."

"And how are we going to do that exactly?" Serial Killer Quinn asked. She wanted to have hot, kinky bondage sex with Rachel, damn it. And she wanted it now. And kill every person who would lay eyes on Rachel. "All I'm good at is making murders look like accidents."

"All I'm good at is technology."

"I am strong!"

"In my world, we survive by utilizing our strengths and in turn, enhancing them," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said. "But since there are no zombies around to train, I don't know what we should do. Any ideas?"

Dork Quinn broke out into a lopsided grin. She waved the forgotten _Call of Duty_ around in the air. "We've got the next best thing right here."

* * *

><p>"No, you hit the button right there! And… you just killed yourself." Dork Quinn sighed as she watched Lion Quinn's character die. They were not listening to her. At least Zombie Apocalypse Quinn was getting the hang out of it and was pawning everyone—well, not as much as her since she was the greatest gamer on the planet if she would so humbly put it. The other two, however, were getting on her nerves.<p>

"Okay, why are you using a knife? You have full ammunition."

"They die more beautifully that way."

"Lion Quinn hates this!"

"Oh my God, don't destroy my limited edition _TRON_ controller!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, if we play'I Just Can't Wait to Be King' one more time, I'm going to stab everyone in this car right now with my table knife and it's not going to be pretty," Serial Killer Quinn said, whipping out the said knife and swiped it over to the butter and to the bread.<p>

Dork Quinn leaned her head on the car window before singing a line, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay…."

"You didn't have breakfast?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked, turning off the player so Lion Quinn, who was riding shotgun, wouldn't rape the replay button for the umpteenth time. Lion Quinn frowned at that but the blinking marquee lights that spelled 'fresh meat' caught her attention.

"No, because _someone_ ate all the bacon in one sitting." Serial Killer glared at the three of them.

Dork Quinn shot her a sheepish smile. Lion Quinn scowled at her. Zombie Apocalypse Quinn stayed quiet.

"Say, why aren't you riding your motorcycle? And where are we going?"

"It'd be too obvious if we're going to spy on them." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn pressed the brake down when a red light appeared. "And to answer your other question, we're going to Breadstix. Rachel and Finn are on one of their usual Saturday breakfast dates right now."

"Don't put Finn near the word 'date' whenever you say something." Dork Quinn frowned. "Actually, no. Don't put Finn anywhere near Rachel whenever you say something. And how did you get that information anyway?"

"From my binder," Serial Killer Quinn said. "I keep things up-to-date."

Lion Quinn bounced on her knees as her whole head peered out of the open window, feeling the wind blowing her hair. She stared at another sign as they passed by another meat shop. "Honey ham…."

"Again, we're not stopping by for three hundred grams of honey ham," Dork Quinn said.

"We're here."

"Finally." Serial Killer Quinn bit off a piece of her toast and got out of the car, intent on getting her usual breakfast that composed of bacon, eggs, coffee, bacon, more toast, and bacon. Or maybe just bacon after all.

"Where do you think you're going?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked.

"Inside. I need more notes and I need to eat. Besides, you'd be too obvious with your pink hair."

She had a point. But still….

"Lion Quinn must kill T-Rex!"

Before Lion Quinn could ram herself out of the car door, Zombie Apocalypse Quinn reached out and fisted her yellow cardigan.

"And where the hell do you think _you're_ going?"

"No," Lion Quinn whined, resisting the strong hold of Zombie Apocalypse Quinn as she tried to reach the car handle that was just mere centimeters away from her fingertips.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn looked to Dork Quinn. "Go inside and follow her."

Dork Quinn shook her head, eyes widening. "No way! I am _not_ going inside there and be alone with that nutcase."

"Okay then, I'll follow her," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, her free hand picking up her sunglasses and beanie cap lying on the dashboard. They weren't sticking to the plan that much now. "You control her and stay here."

"On second thought, I think I'll go inside." Dork Quinn grabbed her bag where her costume was kept and got out of the car before Zombie Apocalypse Quinn would protest that her disguise was not going to work.

Oh, she would show her that it would work.

* * *

><p>"So um… they're just talking about glee," Dork Quinn said, making small talk with the deranged woman across her. She had changed into one of her outfits and, when she had been out of the bathroom and on the way to their table, had tossed a microchip under the table where Rachel and Finn were sitting.<p>

With her perfect disguise, no one would ever freak out.

"What can I get you Miss and uh…." The waitress wasn't sure who or what Dork Quinn was.

"I'm a stormtrooper?" Dork Quinn said and all she got was a blank stare. "You know, from _Star Wars_?"

Another blank stare and Dork Quinn exhaled inside her helmet. She couldn't believe that this waitress didn't know what she was. And people would dare tell she didn't have a life! Ludicrous.

"Uh, sure. As long as you order," she said after a long pause.

Serial Killer Quinn gave out a sweet smile while looking at the waitress. She said, "I'll just have bacon for today. A whole mountain of it, thank you."

"Oh! Me too."

Just as soon as the waitress left, Serial Killer Quinn's smile did too, resuming her scribbling on the binder and with Dork Quinn listening on the conversation through the built-in speakers inside her custom-made stormtrooper helmet.

* * *

><p>Rachel facepalmed when Finn wasn't looking. How could they even be more obvious right now? Did the other Quinn think that a robot dining out so early in a small Ohio town with another Quinn Fabray was not out of place?<p>

"Let's go," Finn said, standing up after he had paid the bill.

"Wait!" Rachel shot up, startling Finn.

"What?" Finn asked. She had to think fast before Finn would turn around and see the robot and the other Quinn.

* * *

><p>"Crap, crap," Dork Quinn said, listening to the latest conversation. "I think we've been caught."<p>

"Why wouldn't we be when you look like that?" Serial Killer snapped her binder shut and scooted out of her seat. So much for her bacon.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to handle the situation you started."

Dork Quinn put her palms on the table and leaned in towards her. "I did _not_ start anything!"

"Could have fooled me."

* * *

><p>"Can we just go through the back door?" Rachel almost wanted to beg, but being Rachel Berry, it wasn't in her to beg. She needed to protect Finn from them, which was ironic.<p>

"Why?"

"Hello," Serial Killer Quinn said behind Finn's huge stature.

Finn turned around and Rachel panicked. She already had enough trouble of explaining to everyone that she had fainted and Quinn had driven her home yesterday. It was that or telling the truth. The former seemed to be a better option, just so everyone wouldn't think that she had gone off the deep end.

It was still all pretty incredible, when her fathers had to pinch her when Rachel _still_ wouldn't believe them that she was awake. That didn't mean though, that the idea had sunk in her mind.

Seeing them for the second time still pretty much left her frozen and wide-eyed but she needed to act coolheaded in front of Finn. And this Quinn, who she still wasn't familiar with.

Why was she carrying a binder anyway?

Rachel squinted at the words written over the white cover.

Oh, God.

Her eyes widened. Was that her name?

"Quinn," Rachel said, her eyes flitting over to Serial Killer Quinn's face. A façade taking over her, she hoped that Finn didn't see what she had just seen. Her boyfriend was too busy staring at Serial Killer Quinn, though. That was good. "What are you doing here in this fine Saturday morning? No itineraries for today? "

There was an amused twinkle in her hazel eyes. She knew Rachel saw it, but she didn't want to say anything to scare Rachel. Finn, yes, but never her precious Rachel.

Instead, she replied, "No. Just need to get out of the house. How about you, Finn? Taking Rachel on a date to Breadstix? Really? Santana's obsession with this place been getting to you?"

Her tone wasn't venomous. Nowhere near venomous. It was friendly.

The blonde was friendly.

The blonde was _friendly_.

Finn was confused. She usually ignored them and now, here they were. Were they in an alternate world or something?

"Uh…." Finn stood there. "We didn't have any other place to go out and eat?"

"True." She nodded and held up her index finger. "Oh, and that's right, I'm sorry I disappeared yesterday. I had to take care of something."

"It's, uh, fine, Quinn. Thanks."

"Yes, it's fine. I already explained it to him just a while ago, but thank you for apologizing," Rachel said, fiddling with her fingers.

Serial Killer Quinn looked at her, a smile spreading across her lips. "I see. So, I guess you two are just about to leave. Was your vegan casserole delicious?"

Okay, Finn concluded that that was downright creepy. The vegan casserole was not on the menu. Rachel demanded them.

Finn gauged Rachel's reaction at that, but she didn't seem to mind the question. Maybe Rachel told her.

"Yes, we are just about to. So if you'll excuse us," Rachel said with a bright smile of her own, grabbing Finn's arm and half-dragged him to the back door.

"Hey, Rach," she said, just enough for Rachel to hear. Her head turned towards Serial Killer Quinn's direction despite herself.

With a smirk, she continued, "I'll see you both on Monday."

* * *

><p>"Hey, did you just see that stormtrooper? Can we go back inside?" Finn's eyes were still glued on the lone stormtrooper shoving bacon under his helmet. Rachel was back to dragging him to where his car was parked. "Puck would be totally jealous if I have a picture with him."<p>

"Let it go, Finn."

* * *

><p>Their plan was a disaster. It was their first try. It wasn't anyone's fault. They didn't have the perfect plan and method yet.<p>

Okay, who were they kidding. It was Dork Quinn's fault.

"Thanks to her and Rachel's quick thinking, Finn didn't discover us. I told you the costume wouldn't work. Did you even learn from the game?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn stubbed the cigarette on the wall. She was surprised that Rachel covered for them instead of ratting them out.

She sighed and smiled to herself. Rachel was amazing.

"It wasn't all my costume's fault. And I'm best out of all of you, remember? We just didn't practice enough and we didn't have a good strategy in the first place," Dork Quinn muttered as she distributed her _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ cards across the pristine floor. "Anyway, what are we going to do about weekdays? Who's going to school?"

"I will," Serial Killer Quinn said as she twirled her hatchet like some baton. "I already promised Rachel."

"What? No knife this time?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked as she plopped down on the bed next to Serial Killer Quinn, propping her boot-covered feet on the protruding footboard.

"Nope." She smirked at her. "And back to point, I need to study Finn further."

"That's a lie," Dork Quinn said. "We all know you're just going to kill everyone in school sooner or later if we aren't around."

"Well, not everyone. Just the people who will talk to her, touch her, or look at her."

"Lion Quinn will go to school!" Lion Quinn stomped her feet on the cards.

Dork Quinn scowled at her. "Hey! If you do that one more time, I'm going to trap you in my Pokéball."

"No."

"I think we should take turns to scare off Finn at school. I'll go last and we need tracking chips." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn ignored the two, who were now wrestling on the floor. She looked at her weapons and patted them like they were pets. She had no use for them at all in this world. Even Serial Killer Quinn had to relate, being banned from using any weapons to kill anyone, just using them for intimidation.

"I have prototypes for that." She heard Dork Quinn groan out after Lion Quinn had clotheslined her.

"You don't trust me?"

"Of course I don't trust you," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said. "You're crazy."

"You know me too well," Serial Killer Quinn said. "But I'll be going first. And I'll have to be the one going to school for the meantime until we get it right."

"I will go second!" Lion Quinn released her grip around Dork Quinn's wrists and stood in a victorious pose.

"I'll go third, then." Dork Quinn was still lying on the floor.

Well, this was a miracle. They agreed on something.

"Good, we have that settled. We need to come up with better plans and strategies since our first trial with spying was just downright bad. We need to play _Call of Duty_ again." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn got out of the bed and looked at each and every one of them. "This is our final year to get it right. We can't fail."

"Uh, guys," Dork Quinn said, ruining the serious moment.

"What?"

"I think I broke my back."

* * *

><p>So after Serial Killer Quinn had rearranged Dork Quinn's back with a disturbing crack, they alternated between <em>Call of Duty<em> gaming hours, bathroom breaks, avoidances of Judy Fabray, fights over who Rachel would date out of the four of them, turns on who would bathe Lion Quinn, and turns on stalking Rachel and Finn for the rest of the weekend. After the meager time limit of forty-two hours, they now almost perfected weapon expertise, brute strength, stealth and charm, and battle strategy—not that they needed some of it right now anyway, but who would know. They needed to keep options open even though all they got to do was to woo Rachel Berry and protect her from Finn through nonviolent ways. In turns, of course.

What could one person expect, though? Compared to their own individual worlds, this one was horrifyingly easy. Sure, they had come across a few errors along the way, but that was because they weren't cooperative with each other now, were they?

And truth to be told, they weren't still that much cooperative.

Tolerant? Yes, but not much.

Buddy-buddy? No.

And since Fabrays were built to be possessive and competitive, they didn't want to give out any details on how to win Rachel Berry. The gaping hole of their logic was that, in the end, they had to share.

A solution to that was still a mystery.

"It's seven in the morning and we haven't gotten any sleep," Dork Quinn said, still in her yesterday's Pikachu pajamas.

Serial Killer Quinn was once again writing on her binder. "Lucky for you, I'm the one who has to go to school first."

"We _have_ to get superhero costumes," Dork Quinn said. She surveyed the room in laziness—junk food and cigarette butts everywhere—and was surprised at the latter that she didn't die of suffocation from all the smoking Zombie Apocalypse Quinn had done.

"Lion Quinn thinks we should just go naked," Lion Quinn said. She was all curled up on the clothes piled on the rock, sleep almost overtaking her.

"I think we should just stick to what we are comfortable with," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she stared out of the window with an unreadable expression. When she heard Lion Quinn's sound of approval, she added, "But you can dress her up."

Dork Quinn was ecstatic. Lion Quinn pouted with her eyes now closed, but agreed nonetheless.

Anything for Jewfasa.

* * *

><p>The plan was now a go.<p>

With Serial Killer Quinn setting her sights on a lone Rachel Berry by her locker, she steeled herself with an innocent smile and a genuine aura, ignoring the students milling around the hallways.

"Hey, Rach."

Rachel's head turned to the voice. She closed her locker door with a soft _click_, still trying to comprehend everything as she looked at her. It was the Quinn she met yesterday. Where were the other three?

"You're usually talkative," Serial Killer Quinn said.

Rachel blinked. "I don't mean to be rude but where's…?"

"Why are you looking for them? I'm right here." Serial Killer Quinn pressed her binder tighter against her chest, her smile falling.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said. "I'm still getting used to the idea of four Quinns around but I don't know why I'm not reacting more hysterically than I should be. I mean, these kinds of things don't happen."

Serial Killer Quinn chuckled. "Well, you better get used to the idea of four of us."

Rachel gave out a small smile as a sign of acknowledgement. "So what should I call you?"

"I'm still Quinn, Rach." Serial Killer Quinn's eyes twinkled under the harsh lights. "Just not the kind of Quinn you want to mess with."

Rachel nodded. "I see."

This was pretty much still awkward and weird for her. It could be described as a lot of things but one thing it wasn't was normal. Here she was, talking to one of the four Quinns and she wasn't reacting like Janet when she saw Frank-N-Furter for the first time. Okay, maybe she had come close to fainting when she had seen them for the first time.

But that was beside the fact that Rachel was worried. Why wouldn't she be when they were here to scare away Finn, when they were her to break her and Finn up, when their relationship wasn't barraged with drama, cheating, and lies?

She wanted to know but at the same time she wanted to let this Quinn know how she felt about all this. Maybe she would understand.

Maybe she would.

"May I ask you a favor? I feel that I'd rather be direct with you right now before I end up regretting it in the future when things get out of hand."

Serial Killer Quinn raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent, motioning for her to go on.

"I need you to stop whatever it is you're all planning to do with Finn," Rachel said. "I also need to point out that my relationship with Finn is not meant to be toyed with and that this whole thing is ludicrous. We aren't going to break up. I suggest that you just give us Quinn back so that everything will be back to normal."

A moment of silence enveloped between them and Rachel couldn't help but stare back at her. Rachel could see nuances on Serial Killer Quinn's features—jaw hardened and eyes blank. Her aura shifted to something that reminded Rachel of a psycho itching to kill.

And in those three seconds, it was gone; the smile was back on again.

"Then I should be direct with you, too." Serial Killer Quinn shook her head and said, "And my answer? No. I'm afraid I can't do that, Rach because you're missing the whole point."

Rachel scrunched up her eyebrows in perplexity. "What ever do you mean?"

At that moment, Serial Killer Quinn's smile transitioned into an arrogant smirk.

She leaned into Rachel's ear, whispering, "You're only asking yourself these simple questions but let me ask you this, Rachel." Serial Killer Quinn went even closer, the feel of Rachel's ear tingling her lips as she said, "Did you ever _really _wonder why there are four of us now? Did you ever wonder why we named our group FABRAYS? Did you ever wonder why Finn's a threat to us? Did you ever wonder why we need you and Finn to break up? Did you even consider that we might have feelings for you? More importantly, _I_ might have feelings for you?"

Serial Killer Quinn's hot breath distracted her, but that didn't stop her from saying, "I-I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The classic denial card." She leaned back and laughed. "Rachel, people tell me I'm crazy all the time. One thing I do have to admit though, that I _am_ crazy about you," she said, nodding to herself. "And if _I_ have to prove to you that I love you, then I will."

With that, Serial Killer Quinn went on her way, leaving Rachel paralyzed for the third time.

Just in time, Finn's arm rested around her shoulder, catching her by surprise with his usual childish grin.

"Ready to go?"

"…Yeah." Rachel gave out a small smile.

After their intense conversation, she even had more questions than answers.

* * *

><p>"Miss Fabray!"<p>

Everyone's heads turned to her, including Rachel. Serial Killer Quinn looked up. "Yeah?"

Mrs. Hagberg frowned at that. "What are you writing?"

"It's nothing." She supported her head with an open palm as she leaned against her table and drummed her pen on the open pages.

"It's definitely not nothing, Miss Fabray," the teacher said, motioning her to come in front. "Why don't you share to the class what you're writing?"

Serial Killer Quinn glanced at Finn and at Rachel.

"…Okay." She stood up and went her way to the front. "But before I recite, I would just like to say this is dedicated to Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson."

A few students snickered, expecting to hear insults and jokes targeting the couple.

Were they wrong. And with that, Serial Killer Quinn recited:

There is a brunette, so beautiful and pure

Has a voice of an angel, a smile that could lure

And lure she does, a blonde that is me

A blonde, just waiting for her to see

So I wait and wait, but still unbeknownst to her

How the line between hatred and love to me is all but a blur

But alas, there was a lot standing in my way, but it was fun

At how I finished them one by one

First was Jesse St. James, strangled by his scarf, his blood mixed with the black

Second was Blaine Anderson, who never woke up again, a sneak attack

Third was Noah Puckerman, his mohawk shaved and his head turned to an angle one eighty

Fourth was Sam Evans killed with the cash she gave to him for Prom, choked by money

Last but not least, Finn Hudson, who I still get to kill

The ways I'm going to murder him, that is part of the thrill

So now I stand here, on my way to win her heart

So you better run, Finn, I'll even give you a head start

* * *

><p>"Oh my God, Quinn! What was that?" Rachel power walked through the bewildered students, hot on Serial Killer Quinn's trail.<p>

"What did I do?" Serial Killer Quinn asked, still walking.

"What did you do? _What did you do_? What did you _not_ do!" Rachel flailed her arms in the air. "Mrs. Hagberg and Finn had to be carried to the clinic! You had our other classmates traumatized!"

"The poem's really mild compared to the other ones I wrote. They're overreacting." Serial Killer Quinn shrugged going into the girl's bathroom, Rachel still an arm's length behind her. "Out. Now," she said to the girls, who grabbed their things and took off.

"Quinn!" Rachel's voice boomed throughout the walls. "Why are you doing this? And oh my God, did you really kill them?"

"No. Not yet anyway." Rachel gaped at that. Serial Killer Quinn took out her brush and blush. "And I'm actually insulted that you're only focused on me killing the guys. Didn't you hear my first two stanzas?"

"That's beside the point! You were reciting poetry that centralizes on murder and killing and—"

"Love." Serial Killer Quinn dabbed the blush on her right cheek.

Rachel ran her hand through her hair. "You know what, if that's one of the ways to protect me from Finn, your endeavors will be counterproductive."

Serial Killer Quinn's smirk appeared once again, putting down her makeup in the sink. Her hazel eyes pierced through Rachel's brown ones through the mirror. "So you're admitting it."

"Admit what?"

Serial Killer Quinn turned around. "That you actually want to be protected from Finn. That you really want to be with us. With me."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You just did. Because you know, Rach," Serial Killer Quinn said. "You know that you're now just obliged to be with him forever because he has something that you can never have back."

"That's not true."

"Ok then, it's not true."

"…Are you using reverse psychology with me?"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're doing it again."

Serial Killer Quinn's smirk turned into a grin, resembling that of a Cheshire cat. "If you're accusing me of reverse psychology, then that means it's true."

Rachel's eyes widened at that and Serial Killer Quinn chuckled. "I know my methods aren't exactly expected and that you're still letting the idea of me and you together sink in, but I just love you too much for letting him get away with all this."

"Why do you keep telling me that?"

"Telling you what?" she could tell Rachel was steering away from the Finn topic but decided to go with it.

"That you love me. Quinn never showed any signs of interest in girls. And the guys and the pregnancy…."

"You don't have to be gay to be attracted to a person, Rach. It just so happens that I'm attracted to you. Madly so."

"But you… Quinn never made advances towards me before. This is all so…."

"Sudden?"

Rachel nodded. "…Yes."

Serial Killer Quinn raised an eyebrow. "That's why we're here. Why _I'm_ here."

"But what exactly are you gaining from all of this? If, hypothetically, Finn and I would break up? To which I assure you though, that we will never break up, but I'm rather curious."

She leaned on the sink, crossing her arms. "Why don't I take you out on a date? Just you and me. I know a place where we can just think and talk about everything since you have so many questions."

Rachel frowned a bit. "I'm not fond of it being called as a date, Quinn."

"Oh, you'll warm up to it sooner or later." She lessened the distance between them, her smile back on again. "But was that a 'yes' on your part?"

Rachel's mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say. It was a great feat achieved.

"Great. I'll pick you up at six."

* * *

><p>Rachel was chastising herself inside. Not only had she agreed to go—Rachel refused to call it a date—with the blonde, she had gone with her behind Finn's back to a parking lot that overlooked Lima, the town already filled with Christmas lights and ornaments.<p>

How hypocritical of her.

But she had kissed her!

How dare she bring her a picnic basket filled with her all of her vegan favorites, letting her feel that she was cared for. How dare she look at her, letting her feel like she was the only person that mattered in the world. How dare she hold her, letting her feel like she was the most fragile thing on earth. How dare she lean in, letting her feel like she was respected and worshipped.

If it hadn't been for the fact that she had been so vulnerable and the fact that Quinn hadn't been as bipolar as before and instead so fresh, deep, mysterious, and intelligent, she would have seen it coming.

Rachel groaned, fisting her pillow and putting it over her face. The kiss had lasted for a few moments before she pulled away. She could remember Quinn's face had fallen at that—she could tell even in the dark—but didn't say anything when she put the car in reverse, telling her that their outing—she still refused to call it a date even after that—was over.

All these feelings right now.

And Quinn's blunt words when she had parked in front of Rachel's home.

She didn't need this, being that she was already emotionally spent to begin with and she had Finn, she had to remind herself of that.

With him in mind, she felt guilty. She didn't want to say anything to him. No, that would lead to fighting and she didn't want to fight anymore. She was nothing if not honest, but this would have to be kept as a secret. Besides, she wasn't the one who initiated the kiss. She wasn't the one who instilled the words deep in her mind. So it wasn't her fault. This was nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

><p>Dork Quinn slapped her in the back of her head, a few stray tears falling down her cheek. "Why did you make Rachel cry, you idiot?" she asked, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her <em>Pac-Man<em> shirt.

They had been asleep through the whole day but were now wide awake when Serial Killer Quinn had arrived at three in the morning, messing up their body clocks entirely. Dork Quinn didn't care though. Serial Killer Quinn made Rachel cry. That for her was the most important matter at the moment.

"Lion Quinn does not approve!" Lion Quinn was beyond mad. How could she do that to Rachel? It was unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. "I must go find Jewfasa!"

With all the yelling Lion Quinn did, Zombie Apocalypse Quinn was relieved that Judy was never around that much.

Lion Quinn couldn't even make it three feet away from her rock though, before the leash Dork Quinn had bought whiplashed her. She bit into the durable material. No one and nothing including this leash could tame her. Except maybe Jewfasa.

"I had to." Serial Killer Quinn decided to let it go as she sat down on the lone metal chair situated at her corner, keeping her head bowed.

Dork Quinn cried even harder, running into Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's arms.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn raised an eyebrow and patted her once on the head. "Stop crying."

"I just—" Dork Quinn hiccupped. "—have a lot of feelings, okay?"

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn evaluated Serial Killer Quinn's expression. There really was more to her than killing. This was Quinn's most unstable, morally questionable personality after all.

"So anything happened before you made her cry?"

"I can't tell you."

"Look, I think we need to reevaluate this whole situation," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, pushing away Dork Quinn, who sobbed even more when she cocooned between the comforter of the bed. "We clearly won't go anywhere if we keep things to ourselves. I don't mean we _have_ to share everything, just the important details to make us move forward. And about Rachel being hurt? Yeah, we all have the right to know about that. We all care about her."

"You say that like we never did that before."

"I know," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said after she had lit her cigarette. "That's why screwing this up is the last thing we need to do."

"Don't tell me about screwing up." Serial Killer Quinn's expression turned hostile. "And I will _never_ screw Rachel up. She's perfect. She's my perfect thing."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn frowned, shifting her weight to her other foot. "She's my perfect thing, too. That's why you need to tell us."

Serial Killer Quinn's lips were in a grim line as she tapped the dagger's tip on her chin. The pink-haired girl had a valid argument. She didn't want to screw this up and after the rejection she had experienced with Rachel, she didn't want the other three to succeed. Although at the end of the day, she had to realize, they would share.

"I might have told her a few things that hit a little too close at home, even if she was denying it."

"Like what?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked, smoke coming out from her lips.

"I might have come on a little too strong about Finn."

"Stop speaking in tongues."

"Look, I just said that she had pity sex with Finn!" Serial Killer Quinn's eyes had a murderous gleam. "I know she told us she did it with him, but after she told me everything, I just had to comment on that."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's eyes widened. "What do you mean she told you everything?"

Lion Quinn dropped the leash from her mouth, now listening to the conversation. Even Dork Quinn had to stop bawling and had her head peeking out of the sheets.

"All I got to tell you is that Rachel went there and that big ass of a T-Rex just made Rachel's first time all about him."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn scoffed. She fisted her still lit cigarette, not minding the searing pain it caused. "Why the fuck am I not surprised?"

Dork Quinn cried even harder. Even Lion Quinn had to sit on the floor, her shoulders sagged.

"I know." Serial Killer Quinn bit her lip to stop herself from grabbing a chainsaw and hunt down Finn.

She didn't need to go any further.

They also knew.

* * *

><p>"God, my head," Dork Quinn said as she sat up, seeing stars. She might have the worst hangover in the world without even touching a wine cooler.<p>

"You're up early." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn threw the roll of tobacco out of the open window where she was perched up on its sill, her left leg dangling outside of the room.

Dork Quinn scratched her head as she looked at the time with bloodshot puffy eyes. It was four in the morning. "Didn't get any sleep? Aren't you ever tired?"

"I'm used to it." She leaned her head on the side jamb. "What I'm not used to is not seeing zombies limping their way to home base, though."

Dork Quinn nodded and got out of bed without making a sound, as to not disturb Serial Killer Quinn and went to Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's side. It was weird. Weird that she had been able to lay beside a person that could possibly kill you in your sleep. Weird that she didn't even bother to put a pillow between their bodies anymore—not that it helped, but there was a sense of security behind it—and had been able to go to sleep after crying so hard.

Maybe it was because she was a part of her. Or maybe it was because of last night after she had smacked Serial Killer Quinn's sense out of her, she was unafraid of Serial Killer Quinn. Or maybe because of Rachel. No, not maybe, definitely.

It was definitely because of Rachel. Dork Quinn had a roller coaster of feelings for her.

Dork Quinn could make out Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's profile. She would leave the skill of gauging people to Serial Killer Quinn since she was bad at it, but judging by the soft eyes and the ever subtle quirk of a smile, she knew Zombie Apocalypse Quinn, the ever badass motherfucker, had the look that made Dork Quinn conclude that she was thinking about Rachel, too.

Okay, okay, she had to admit that it didn't take a serious reading like her crazy counterpart did to know what Zombie Apocalypse Quinn was thinking because she also had that kind of look, too, whenever she thought about Rachel—the kind of look that was smitten and love struck.

While their minds drifted to Rachel as they shared another moment of silence, they also listened to the birds chirping in the background with the cool breeze of dawn relaxed them. And when Zombie Apocalypse Quinn finished lighting up another cigarette, Dork Quinn didn't even flinch at the sight and smell of it anymore.

"…After what she said, it makes me fight for Rachel even more."

"Sometimes that's all we really have to do. Fight, I mean," she said after a beat. "It's not like we're perfect, but at least she needs to see that we're so much better than him. We just need to show her that."

Serial Killer Quinn was already awake, and she had been ever since her head hit the pillow after they had called it a night once they had nothing to do but either sulk on a rock and think about Rachel, cry and think about Rachel until slumber hit, smoke until one couldn't stand anymore and think about Rachel, or lay there and think about Rachel and how much of a lunatic one had been for lashing out at the person cherished and loved the most in this unfair world.

With the hushed conversation her other two selves were having, she couldn't help but think about how she made a fatal mistake on her part. Not only had she offended Rachel, she also had tried to make advances towards her, when in retrospect, she should have been slow. And that wasn't her forte at all. She was all meant to take someone in a vulnerable state and take advantage from there.

It hurt, and that feeling was not something to be taken as joke if it was Serial Killer Quinn. People like her weren't supposed to feel but she had, she did with Rachel and Rachel alone. And as maudlin as it sounded, Rachel was the one that grounded her from killing everyone in sight. Except for the people who were interested in Rachel, but still.

Rachel may have praised Finn and sugarcoated everything, but she knew Rachel. And once she had seen those expressive eyes becoming more and more like hers when they had talked about Finn, her brain-to-mouth filter had just shut down.

A flightless bird—lost, alone, and straying away from the wagon of normalcy and empathy, the one thing that saved her, the one person that saved her was Rachel.

That was why she needed to save her too.

It was their year to get it right, after all.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

"What are you doing here, Quinn?"

"Last time I checked, this _is _a public girls' restroom or did I not get the memo?"

Rachel didn't react at the sarcastic remark, and instead, gathered her things and went right past her.

Serial Killer Quinn sighed and followed her out of the restroom and to the secluded hallway.

"Go away, Quinn."

"Not until we talk about that night. I can't take it anymore with you avoiding and ignoring me for the past three days."

"I've got nothing to say to you."

"That's funny. You usually have a lot to say."

No response.

"Alright, bad joke. I'm sorry."

Rachel turned on her heel and Serial Killer Quinn stopped on her tracks, almost colliding with her.

"Sorry? That's all you're going to have to say to me? I may be a very forgiving person, Quinn, but I'm _not_ sorry to say that it takes more than an apology to forgive you. You absolutely had no right to say the things you said and do what you did. I have a_ boyfriend_, Quinn. A boyfriend who loves me an-and takes care of me. I cannot let you ruin our relationship again."

"That's not going to scare me away," Serial Killer Quinn said. She grasped the right index finger that was poking her in the chest, before sneaking the back of her hand to Rachel's palm and interlocking both of their hands. "And I know sorry's not going to cut it anymore. Let me make it up to you."

Rachel shook her head. "I'm not going to let you leave me in a rather vulnerable state and talk about my feelings once again, Quinn."

"Please? I promise I won't do it again. I'll take you on an honest-to-goodness date this time."

"I have boyfriend, Quinn," Rachel said. "And that was _not_ a date."

"I didn't hear a 'no' in that sentence."

"Then no," Rachel said as she pulled her hand away.

Serial Killer Quinn nodded. "…Okay. I'll see you in class."

Rachel was more confused than ever.

Did she just wave a white flag?

Did that mean that this was all over?

Why did she feel so sad all of a sudden?

* * *

><p>Maybe Rachel had concluded things much too soon because here she was, gaping at her sitting on the porch steps.<p>

In the autumn cold.

At nine o'clock in the evening.

With no jacket or coat.

Armed with a bouquet of purple hyacinths.

"How long have you been sitting there? Have you been waiting for me?" Rachel asked, approaching her.

Serial Killer Quinn smiled and Rachel realized that this was the first time she had seen a genuine one.

"Not long enough and yes." Serial Killer Quinn stood and chuckled, her breath coming out in puffs. She held out the flowers. "We Fabrays don't give up easily."

"Oh my God," Rachel breathed out after she had put down her grocery bags and had felt Serial Killer Quinn's hand when she had accepted it. "You're cold as ice. We need to warm you up."

Serial Killer Quinn shook her head, the smile still in place. "I'm fine. Really."

"No, you are certainly not fine. Let me get you inside and that's that. You can't say anything otherwise," Rachel said.

She grabbed her elbow with her free hand and dragged her inside, forgetting about the bags on the steps and about the fact that she was still mad at her.

* * *

><p>"It's dangerous grocery shopping at night, you know," Serial Killer Quinn said after she had yawned. Her head on the armrest of the Berry living room couch. "And is this all necessary?"<p>

"Dad and Daddy are out on a trip, so I have to take care of myself for a couple of nights," Rachel said, grabbing the stool and situating it just in front of the sink. "And nonsense. Those are all essential in getting you back to perfect health."

Serial Killer Quinn couldn't help but smile underneath the hot towel over her forehead when she saw the sight of Rachel Berry in the kitchen doing a routine of stepping up on the stool to stocking their shelves and stepping down once again to grab another good.

"…I apologized to Finn. The whole class, too," she said. "Also the boys, even if they weren't there. I also went by to look for Jesse. I called Sam, too. They were confused, but I didn't explain and just said sorry."

It was against her principles—if she ever had one—but if this was to win Rachel, then so be it. She would get her chance on _really_ killing them someday, anyway. With Rachel's consent.

Maybe. She didn't want to be a liar.

Oh wait, she was. But still, she never wanted to lie to Rachel, so yes, she would ask.

What if she'd say no, though? She would have to get back to that someday too.

Rachel paused and smiled despite herself, holding the Cheerios cereal box midair with her back still turned towards Serial Killer Quinn as she said, "I see. Thank you, Quinn." And with that, she carried on restocking.

Serial Killer Quinn smiled wider as she got up, removing the compresses and the electric blanket from her body.

"So, uhm." Rachel cleared her throat. She put away the last carton of soymilk before hopping down. "Mr. Schuester said that we need to write another original and I figured that since we both composed the Berry/Fabray song that won us Regionals, maybe we could—" Rachel jumped a bit when Serial Killer Quinn's arms encircled around her waist.

"It's Fabray/Berry, but go on," Serial Killer Quinn said, leaning her forehead on Rachel's left temple. Rachel could hear the mischief in her husky voice.

"…Quinn, you're supposed to be in the couch. And can you please move away?"

Serial Killer Quinn shook her head. "My symptoms are shivering, exhaustion, and fatigue, and it's nowhere near a severe case of hypothermia. All I need is body heat, really."

"Quinn." Rachel could feel herself heating up. "You promised me."

"I didn't promise not to hold you," she whispered, just audible enough for her to hear. "Your heart rate's picking up. That means you're either scared or you like it. I'm pretty sure it's the second option."

"Why do you know all these things?" Rachel asked.

"My… job requires me to." Serial Killer Quinn closed her eyes, basking in the warmth and smell of Rachel. Strawberries and sunshine. Just as what she imagined it to be.

They stood like that for a while, with her against Rachel's back. The latter not protesting, deep in her own conflicting thoughts.

Rachel was decisive in a lot of things. She had a planner that had details upon details of how her life should be lived to prove that point, but it was safe to say that she was now in a deeper turmoil than the past few days. It was all so complex, even for her.

Was this considered cheating? Probably.

Why hadn't she pushed her away yet, when she said herself that she didn't want this? She didn't know.

What she knew though, was that this Quinn made her spill things that were either trivial or meant to be kept. She had this power over Rachel and now….

"Rachel. Be with me."

"I'm still mad at you. And no."

"You don't sound mad anymore. And why not?"

"You already know why." Rachel's breath hitched when she felt Serial Killer Quinn's grip grew tighter around her.

"Is this bad timing for a sleepover or…?"

Rachel's eyes widened and pulled away from the embrace, turning around to see Kurt Hummel with his pillow and duffel bag.

"Kurt!"

Serial Killer Quinn wasn't as panic-stricken as she turned around. Cool and collected, she kissed Rachel on the cheek, who barely registered the contact, and nodded in acknowledgment to Kurt, before passing by both of them and out of the open front door.

When Serial Killer Quinn closed it with a soft _click_ and was a good distance away, Kurt's jaw unhinged before he went back to stare at Rachel. "Rachel Barbra Berry, is there something you want to tell me?"

* * *

><p>"Ho-how long have you been standing there?"<p>

"Oh my God, Quinn likes you!" Kurt didn't even bother answering the question as he paced and grinned like a madman in the kitchen. "Quinn Fabray likes Rachel Berry. Oh my God. Are those purple hyacinths? That's so romantic. This is, this is—finally!"

"Kurt, please don't tell Finn—wait, what? What do you mean finally?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "My dear Rachel, you are so obtuse. Quinn's liked you ever since you two met. She's too obvious."

"…What?" Rachel looked at him like he had grown two heads. "More importantly, why are you so happy about this?"

Kurt waved a hand. "Oh, please. Rachel, as far as I'm concerned with your love life, I personally think that you and Finn aren't right for each other."

Rachel gaped for the second time of the night. "That's your stepbrother, Kurt."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Finn's a great guy, but considering that Finn would probably have to open a dictionary every time you go into your soliloquies and lectures, well…." Kurt trailed off as he faced Rachel, before continuing on with a, "I must confess that I have been rooting for Quinn with you for quite some time now. I even made up a portmanteau combining your two last names, which is, by the way, Faberry…."

Rachel sat on the stool, trying to catch up with Kurt's excited words. Confusing.

Absolutely confusing.

* * *

><p>Serial Killer Quinn smiled. She left her mark, ending it on a good note, if she did say so herself.<p>

She grinned, not minding the cold at all. She could still feel Rachel's body flushed against hers.

Soon, Rachel will be hers. Will be theirs.

Soon.


	2. Part II

Author's Note: Hi, guys! So this is the second part and the whole ensemble is back together. This part only follows two important details of the last two episodes and practically ignored the rest—Santana came out and she, Mercedes, Sugar, and Brittany are now in New Directions. Sectionals hasn't happened yet, Rachel was never—and will never be—suspended, and Sam isn't back yet. There are a few more parts to come. And sorry for such a late update, I've been cleaning around my fics and I've been really busy. Big thanks to **Miko Akako**. Also, thanks so much for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. I sincerely apologize that I don't respond to your reviews one by one, though. Real life has been such a pain, but your reviews always bring a smile to my face when I read them. So can I hug you all through the computer screen?

* * *

><p>Of Inconsistencies and Continuities<p>

Part II

* * *

><p>"Hi, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, can I speak to Finn Hudson, please? This is Quinn Fabray, his friend. I know. It's been long time since I last talked to you, too," Serial Killer Quinn said through the speaker of her cell phone, twirling her pendant between her thumb and middle finger as she ambled around the floor. "He's seriously ill? Oh, I see. So he can't make it at school today? Oh no. That's too bad. Oh, okay. Can you kindly just tell him then to get ready with the song choices for Sectionals? Okay. Thanks. Well, I hope he'll get better soon. Give Finn my best regards, then. Okay. Thank you again. Bye."<p>

With a click, Serial Killer Quinn hummed a tune that sounded like "Keep Holding On" as she glanced at the list of numbers she had called before the boy. Everything was going according to her plan. And with that, she tapped her cell phone on her lips, a smirk threatening to come out when she walked over to her space.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn blew out a trail of smog. "So the lumbering idiot is sick."

"Why the hell are you calling him anyway?" Dork Quinn, who was sitting Indian style on the floor, directed the question to Serial Killer Quinn, looking up from her 3DS with her stylus in her right hand.

"Sectionals is coming up. I want us to win." Serial Killer Quinn pocketed the portable device in her blue pinstripe babydoll dress before vaulting herself up to the operating table and crossing a leg over her left thigh.

"Okay…? Then how can you explain the guys all of a sudden, and it just so happens that some of them are sick?" Dork Quinn asked, lowering the volume of the game console, fixating more on Serial Killer Quinn than the game itself.

Serial Killer Quinn raised an eyebrow. "And why the third degree?"

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn stubbed out the cigarette on the floor with the bottom of her combat boot after she had hopped off the window sill where she had been sitting. "Something tells me you're up to no good."

"Now why would you ever think that?" Serial Killer Quinn asked, embodying an ingénue, complete with innocent eyes and an unoffending pitch in her utterance.

Lion Quinn even had to quirk an eyebrow towards her after she had uncurled herself from her light, peaceful slumber on her rock. "Lion Quinn thinks you did something to them, too."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't kill them, if that's what you're implying."

Dork Quinn tapped the stylus before she decided standing up and leaving her unsaved _Legend of Zelda_ game on the floor. She went to her computer which was in the utmost left corner of the room to review the latest routes Serial Quinn had taken last Friday night after she had left the Berry house last night before she had arrived—and in turn waking them up from their sleep—back at home base in the wee hours.

"According to the coordinates, after you visited Rachel, you went back here to get the car, I suspect, without telling us and drove to Kewpee Hamburgers, and to a drugstore," Dork Quinn said as she stared at the computer monitor, a frown forming on her lips.

The other two squinted at the blonde shrugging at them. Serial Killer Quinn resisted laughing as she bit her bottom lip when Dork Quinn said, "You also went to the Hudson-Hummel house, to Puck's, to Mike's, to Artie's, to Brittany's, and to Blaine's."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn shook her head, pinching the bridge of nose. "You did not just do what I think you just did."

Serial Killer Quinn raised her hands. "I'm just shaking them a little. Although I might have gotten carried away with Finn's triple bacon cheeseburger. But still, I didn't kill them."

"You and your ways of skirting around truths and lies." Dork Quinn buried her face in her hands as she leaned back on the swivel chair. "I thought the tracking chip would do the trick. And how the hell did you do all of that so quickly?"

"I have my ways," Serial Killer Quinn said, propping herself on her elbows as she swung her right leg back and forth. "And consider it as a catalyst. Now we can keep Finn's gargantuan arms from Rachel and the others at bay for a few days."

"While I do enjoy tormenting that hypocritical jackass the most, we should know better. You should know better. They did nothing. Mike, Rory, and Artie, especially. Finn's our priority one, but we need to do it as nonviolent as possible," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she looked up. "This can possibly ruin our chances with Rachel.

"Again, I didn't kill them, if that's what you're insinuating."

Serial Killer Quinn might have said one non-denial denial too many, but she couldn't help it. She figured that since she already had apologized to all of them, she might as well take it to full advantage towards some.

So she had gone to Kewpee Hamburgers at almost closing hours to order a few burgers and had made sure they had been labeled by complete names so no one in their family would have the chance to take a bite of the burger. She had knocked a staff employee out cold in the bathroom when no one had been looking, and had gone to a twenty-four hour drugstore to buy seasoning and, well, over-the-counter drugs that would incite and provoke the human body. So she had exerted an effort in wearing their uniform and had proceeded to insert the drugs in the patty in the backseat of the car. So she had delivered them personally to their doorstep and had declared, in a southern accent, a wig, and sunglasses, and that this burger had been for so and so.

It had taken her an hour and fifty eight minutes to get to Westerville, Ohio and another when she had gone back. It was worth it, though, seeing not only Blaine's clueless but grateful face when he had accepted it when she had said that it was a promo and free of charge, but also the other guys before she had gone all the way there.

Puck had fist pumped in front of her and had whisper-shouted out a, "Yes!" at her face. She had seen Finn through the living room window break out into his usual dopey, gassy grin when he had received it from Burt, who Serial Killer Quinn had given the food to since he had been the one who had answered the door. Mike and Artie had been reluctant and had been the ones who had stared at her the longest, but had welcomed the burgers. And she also had made certain Brittany had given it to Rory and had made him eat it.

Serial Killer Quinn sighed. The glee boys were so predictable. They hadn't even questioned her as to why, all of a sudden, Kewpee Hamburgers were taking deliveries so late at night.

Someday, Jesse and Sam would be next.

Yes, she had promised Rachel, and of course, she had kept it. But she didn't vow not to mess with them a little—especially Finn—and again, she couldn't help it. It was a visceral trait. Innate and second-nature. She didn't even entertain the idea of considering her impulses on torturing the guys in Rachel's life, whether it was a platonic relationship or romantic, a perennial problem, unlike the three that were now judging her down to her deep, sadistic core.

Lion Quinn's growl vibrated against her throat, before readying herself on her rock, looking like some kind of a pouncing stance, itching to strike at her at any moment now. "Lion Quinn doesn't like you at all. Not at all."

"Oh, here we go." Dork Quinn rotated away from the computer screen and ran over to the hooks that were attached on the door, intent on untangling the leash hanging over the sea of belts.

"Easy there, tiger." Serial Killer Quinn slid off the table, a combat knife in hand.

"How dare you insult me? I'm a lion. I am the Lion Quinn!" Lion Quinn catapulted herself towards the direction of Serial Killer Quinn.

Everything moved all at once; Dork Quinn lassoed Lion Quinn's ankle with the leash and speared her down to the ground with a dull thump when she was just a few mere inches away from the tip of the blade all the while Zombie Apocalypse Quinn intervened as she disarmed the knife from Serial Killer Quinn's grip and grappled her before taking her down with a shoulder throw.

"Nice move," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, locking Serial Killer Quinn's arm on the latter's upper back. With the ruckus they were making, Zombie Apocalypse was relieved Judy wouldn't sleep without splurging herself with a few bottles of vintage wine.

"I was actually aiming for her neck." Dork Quinn grunted as she struggled with Lion Quinn, straddling her to pin her in place. "I think we need three more leashes."

"You two are overreacting."

"Pot calling the kettle black," Zombie Apocalypse said.

Serial Killer Quinn all but chuckled, her cheek pressed against the floor as her hazel eyes bore through Lion Quinn's angry ones. "And why are you mad, anyway? I didn't do anything to Rachel. I will never do anything to Rachel."

"You will ruin Lion Quinn's chances to mate with Jewfasa." Lion Quinn snarled in response at her, baring her teeth when Dork Quinn had tied both of her wrists and ankles together up in the air. Dork Quinn released a sigh of relief, lying down on the floor.

"More importantly, it's abusive and immoral."

"Such strong words." Serial Killer Quinn rolled her eyes. "And this is coming from someone who kills zombies for a living and wears inverted crosses printed across black muscle tees."

"Don't tempt me to break your arm."

And to prove how serious Zombie Apocalypse Quinn was with her words, she bent Serial Killer Quinn's arm further and higher, until the back of her hand brushed along the nape of her neck.

"So now you're threatening me? Isn't it abusive and immoral?" Serial Killer Quinn asked, a smirk gracing on her lips as she shot her a side-glance, her eyes turning into slits.

"Enough, alright?" Dork Quinn sat up when she caught her breath. "Just please, don't do it again. And you." She turned to Lion Quinn. "Stop attacking everyone whenever you feel like it." She glanced up at Zombie Apocalypse Quinn. "And don't break her arm."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn scoffed but released Serial Killer Quinn, but not without pushing her down. Three pairs of eyes followed her every move as she approached the bedside table and acquired her _Ducati_ key.

"Where are you going?" Dork Quinn asked when the pink-haired girl grabbed her leather jacket from the coat rack. "You're not going to leave me here with these two, are you?"

"Not so tough now," Serial Killer said, brushing the dust off of her dress after she had stood up.

"I'm going to Rachel's. I'm picking her up so she can go to school." Zombie Apocalypse twisted the doorknob. Without looking, she said, "You take care of them."

With that, she was out of the room, the sounds of her footsteps going further and further away. Dork Quinn gulped as she cast her gaze on a grinning Serial Killer Quinn and at a still restrained Lion Quinn growling at him.

God help her.

* * *

><p>Rachel tapped her right foot to a nonexistent beat on their front porch as she waited for Finn to come by and pick her up. It was seven forty-eight in the morning and three minutes and twenty-two seconds past the time where she would do her scales in private in the choir room before her class would start.<p>

Rachel uncrossed her arms and shifted her weight to her left foot, the sounds of her Mary Janes' incessant tapping and a huff a sign of her daily routine slipping away.

Where was Finn? She hadn't seen nor had heard from him since Friday night.

And he always arrived on time when Rachel requested him to do so. He knew that she was very partial to punctuality and timekeeping. And of course, fate had chosen the _perfect_ time for Finn Hudson be nowhere to be found and her car in need of repairs.

Rachel sighed as she pulled on her sweater sleeves to warm her cold hands up. She was supposed to feel deathly distressed right now, but instead, she was getting frustrated and she didn't know why.

Okay, maybe she did know why.

Last night, safe to say, was weird.

Not only had Kurt professed his undying yet unfathomable love for a relationship that would _never_—and Rachel would forever stress that word—going to happen and had proceeded fangirling all the way to Rachel's bedroom, she had been bombarded with questions upon questions of how this and that had happened.

Rachel had been in the hot seat. A very, very hot seat.

She didn't know how to explain it to Kurt, didn't want to even explain it to Kurt, only that she had said they should had just let the current topic at hand go and be shoved into the deepest, darkest closet or else...well, she didn't have anything to add after that but Kurt had agreed nonetheless—not without a pout, though. And with that, she had dismissed him and had told him that they would have to have a slumber party next time, aware that Kurt would never stop sighing and giving her the evil eye throughout the night if they did.

It was fair in her mind that she wouldn't share the FABRAYS situation to Kurt since she didn't even share the fact that there were four Quinns to Finn. And to say that the trait of Rachel keeping a secret was unlikely in most situations, Rachel would have to agree with that. She would either spill everything out like word vomit in the heat of the situation or give too much information than what was needed.

She was verbose. She needed attention. She needed applause to live. So it was natural that talking would be one of the ways to express herself and her feelings. And just by looking at her friends—except Quinn—and Finn, and not say anything at all and would have to deal with the situation by herself, it killed her. She was guilty, but at the same time, she was innocent. It was confusing, but at the same time, it was clear.

She didn't know why, but she felt that whatever was going on between her and Quinn was private.

Personal, even.

And the flowers. And Serial Killer Quinn being so sweet to her. And how she waited for her. And even before that, she remembered, there had been her with a picnic basket and a smile gleaming underneath weak interior lights.

The fact that Serial Killer Quinn didn't even bat an eyelash at her and nodded when it was appropriate when she had gone into spontaneous yet uncalled-for accounts about Finn after the blonde had put the empty picnic basket on the back seat of the car and had talked about life in general.

In retrospect, the red Volkswagen Beetle had felt like an escape at that time. The view of Lima, Ohio was something otherworldly. Serial Killer Quinn had stared at her, her hazel eyes glowing underneath the dimmed surroundings and never had Rachel found banal eye contact so spooky and so… connecting.

Serial Killer Quinn had nodded, waiting for her to continue, but there were no more words when Rachel had grown silent.

_"Even__ if __I__ have __advice __for __that, __Rach.__ I __couldn__'__t __tell __you. __I__ wouldn__'__t __tell __you. __It__'__s __selfish, __but __all __I__ want__ is __for __you __to __be __with __me__ and __love__ me __in __return,_" Serial Killer Quinn had said to her after she had absorbed every detail from Rachel's mouth like it was gospel.

And when a conflicted Rachel hadn't offered any words of encouragement nor discouragement, Quinn had leaned in, the center console not an obstacle for the latter as her nose brushed against hers.

_"I __love__ your __nose, __by __the __way,"_ she had said, just above a whisper. Chestnut eyes hadn't stayed still at that time, skimming the outline of the Serial Killer Quinn's right hand resting on Rachel's thigh up to the rising and sinking gold cross pendant resting on her chest. _"__I__ may __be__ the__ only__ one __who__ supported__ you__ in __getting __a __nose __job, __but __that __didn__'__t__ mean__ I__ did__ it__ because__ I__ hated__ your__ nose.__ I__ never __did .__ I__ did__ it__ because __I__ knew__ what__ it__ felt__ like,__ and__ I __thought __it __would __make__ you__ happy. __It__'__s __your __body, __and __I __had, __and __still__ have, __no __right __to __fully __decide__ on __what __to __do __with __it.__"_

_"How__ about__… __how__ about __you__ saying __that __I__ should__ wait?__ Isn__'__t __that __your __subjective __decision __about __my__ body?__" _Rachel had whispered back as she pulled away just a tiny bit, only for Serial Killer Quinn to follow her.

_"You__ were __asking __for __my __point __of __view.__ And __I __gave __it __to __you.__"_ Rachel had that gut feeling that Serial Killer Quinn had wanted to add more, but didn't and instead, had changed the subject with an, _"__I__'__m__ sorry.__"_

_"_…_For what?"_

_"For all the name calling. For how I treated you. For everything. All except for what I'm about to do."_

_"For what… you're about to do…?"_

And Rachel still hadn't turned away, couldn't turn away when she had felt Serial Killer Quinn's thumb tracing circles just beneath her jawline. And when Serial Killer Quinn had slanted her head ever so slightly and had pushed forward after another moment of silence, their lips had met.

Rachel was seventeen now, but growing up with musicals and unrealistic love stories, she knew that she would forever be a romantic. Not as immature when she had been a sophomore, but….

Wait, was she jogging down memory lane? Right now? Waiting for her _boyfriend_?

And why, of all people, was this happening to her?

Rachel frowned to no one. This was absolutely infuriating.

She had more important things to worry about than her current dilemma that felt more like it originated from a science fiction novel gone soap opera than some everyday cliché romance plot someone would happen to see at school.

Like how she should focus on getting into NYADA. Like Sectionals getting closer and closer and they still hadn't chosen a song to perform on stage. Like how they had no costumes or choreography yet. Like even though Santana, Mercedes, and Brittany were back with Sugar in tow, she was still neck-deep in the New Directions' endless hoopla. Like how Kurt was added into this one disastrous equation. Like how Quinn was exacerbating the whole situation.

Great, now she was back to Quinn.

It was like she was stuck in a comedy, a tragedy, even. Whatever this was, it was not good for her and her relationship with Finn. And she should tell Finn about what happened; playing with the idea that maybe it would cease and erase every thought of her and Serial Killer Quinn kissing because maybe, this was just guilt talking to her.

She needed to end this.

But how?

"Hi."

Rachel was pulled out of her daydream when the plastic's coolness seeped through the thin, carmine material of her reindeer sweater, a firm yet gentle press on her stomach. She looked down at the intruding object and at the person holding it out to her.

"Quinn." Rachel hadn't heard her arrive at all. The brunette was out of it.

She gave out a small smile, before prodding the full face helmet again on her. "Rachel."

"…What are you doing here?"

One thing she was certain of was that this wasn't the Quinn that had visited her last night. Seeing a pink-haired Quinn Fabray again in the flesh caught her off guard. She wondered if she still had that Ryan Seacrest tattoo on her lower back, but that was beside the point.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's head tilted towards the idle motorcycle out front. "I figured you could use a ride."

Instead of the usual "How did you know?" she asked a, "What did you do with Finn?"

Of course. Why didn't she see it in the first place? With the Quinns now around, red flags should be all over the place when it came to the now renewed, yet trite love triangle. Well, except for the fact that there were four of them now—a love hexagonal?—and they were pining after Rachel, rather than playing the tug of war on who would get Finn.

She shook her head. "I didn't do anything. I promise. But I really am sorry." .

Rachel nodded after a short gap of silence. She pushed away the helmet with open palms. "Thank you, but no thank you, Quinn."

The pink-haired girl frowned. "Why?"

"Just because."

Sighing, she approached her, invading the brunette's personal space once again. And before Rachel could even protest, she removed her white beret from her. She placed the helmet over her head and pushed it down.

"I'm sorry but you're going to be late." With that, she pecked the visor where Rachel's forehead was situated. She backed away and released another smile. "You're beautiful."

One thing that was advantageous about the helmet was that her embarrassment wasn't too apparent. It might ruin her hair after she would take it off, but at least it saved the brunette from letting Zombie Apocalypse Quinn see that she was downright blushing underneath it.

Rachel's cheeks flushed even more, almost imitating the color of her sweater, when Zombie Apocalypse Quinn took off her coat and slung it around the brunette's shoulders, saying, "Here. You're shivering. And don't worry, it's not made of animal hide or anything." And grabbed her by the hand with her free one, leading her towards the black vehicle.

Rachel was stuck in a daze. Now if only Rachel would admit that her reason for shivering wasn't because of the autumn breeze.

* * *

><p>"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Rachel said in a frenzied pace when she registered the fact that she was side saddling a motorcycle, her front pressing up against Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's back. "I haven't ridden a motorcycle before. Are you certain that this vehicle is in perfect condition? Are there any precautionary measures that I should be aware of? Is this vehicle safe for two people to ride? Wouldn't wearing my beret be frivolous when it comes to protecting your head? Shouldn't you be wearing a helmet as well?"<p>

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn smiled at the questions Rachel was barraging her. She was adorable.

"You have my helmet and I really don't need it that much. _But_," she said when she could hear Rachel take a gasp of air, knowing that she was ready to berate her in one breath if given the chance. "I'll wear it next time. Rachel Berry first, me second."

"But—"

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn twisted the key and when the black _Ducati_ roared into life, Rachel was even more terrified, wrapping her arms around the punk's waist and holding on for dear life, the jacket still secured on her shoulders.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," she whispered as she ducked, the side of the helmet just against Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's neck.

She grew more and more concerned when Rachel's grip went tighter and tighter. It felt nice, though. But….

"Do you want us to walk instead?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked, turning her head sideways. She was starting to feel remorse on not taking the car instead.

"No." The brunette shook her head and disagreed a little too quickly for her taste, still nudging her helmet-covered head against her. "No. It's fine. It's just… this is a new experience for me."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Rachel said. God, why was she making this more difficult for Rachel to not trust and like her? "And besides… I've always wanted to try riding one of these."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really, really sure?"

"Yes!" Rachel laughed and it was music to Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's ears. "Let's go. I'm already five minutes and two seconds late for my vocal warm-ups."

"Yes, Rach. Just hold on tight."

Rachel nodded in concentration and Zombie Apocalypse Quinn threw another grin at her way, before realizing that she never smiled this much before. It felt corny and fantastic at the same time. And she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all.

That thought in the back of her mind, she wrenched the handlebar a few times for good measure and sped off with no fancy exhibitions this time. Because if she did, it was possible Rachel would have a heart attack before they even arrive at school.

* * *

><p>"Release me at once," Lion Quinn said after the back of her head hit the floor once again when she tried to reach for the honda knot.<p>

An entertained Serial Killer Quinn drummed her fingers on her white binder as she sat there on the bed, watching Dork Quinn, dual wielding the Kingdom Key with the latter's eyes darting back and forth between her and a squirming Lion Quinn, who was still tied up on the floor.

"Don't be scared," Serial Killer Quinn said with a simper. "I thought you weren't afraid of me anymore."

How the hell could she be _not_ scared anymore? If it hadn't been for Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's speedy reflexes and Dork Quinn's fluke of a throw, Lion Quinn would have been bleeding to death by now.

"Don't judge me." Dork Quinn raised the weapon higher. "I have a Keyblade and I'm not afraid to use it."

Serial Killer Quinn tut-tutted, an open palm supporting her chin as she hunched forward, her eyes boring through her. "And what does it do? It opens doors?"

"No, well—" she was about to protest, but said, "…Yes. But don't underestimate it!"

"So you're possibly going to maul me to the point of internal hemorrhage." A nod. "With a key." Another nod. "That has a Mickey Mouse logo as a keychain." a third nod. "…Do you know how ridiculous I just sound right now?"

But before anything came out from Dork Quinn's mouth, the doorbell rang.

* * *

><p>Kurt parked his Lincoln Navigator just out front, before checking his phone when another text came in.<p>

He sighed. It was the tenth text he received from him since an hour ago. And it still was incomprehensible. He should be worried but he had other things in mind. He would have to get back to Blaine at school.

After what he had witnessed in the Berry household had him thinking—he was going to help Quinn win Rachel Berry's heart.

No, his stepbrother didn't know. No, no one was going to stop him from helping. And yes, it was because of points he mentally listed with one column of pros, and… he left the other side blank.

Number one, had anyone even took time to notice how they always end up sitting next to each other? And how they always seemed to have the most intense of eye contacts that could rival him and Blaine?

Number two, Finn wasn't right for Rachel, no matter how much she gushed about him. Kurt was living with the guy and safe to say, they didn't match. Like, at all. And the confession about him serving meat to a vegan didn't exactly give him brownie points. And for crying out loud, he prayed to a grilled cheese sandwich. Not the perfect boyfriend material to someone as intellectual and headstrong as Rachel.

Number three, Quinn had so much potential to give Rachel everything she wanted. The purple hyacinths just won him over more.

Number four, Quinn had _finally_ asked Rachel to be with her and if he hadn't interrupted—and he still regretted to this day—he could have listened more to their exchange of words.

Number five, Quinn loved Rachel. Wasn't that reason enough?

His reasons were shallow, he had to admit that, but Kurt couldn't even begin to describe their dynamic and chemistry except that Quinn was like the typical, run-of-the-mill kindergarten bully who would insult their crush and caved in.

Now he was playing cupid with a girl who still had a boyfriend—his stepbrother no less—and another girl who would drive down a stake on his chest if he wasn't careful enough.

One would say that he was betraying Finn and he had no justification on his actions, the sole reason that this was for the best. Rachel would understand soon. Finn would understand someday.

Kurt unbuckled the seatbelt and slid out of the car, ignoring the annoying vibrations in his pocket. It was another message from Blaine, he knew.

With an exhale to steel himself, he rang the doorbell.

* * *

><p>"Shit." Serial Killer Quinn peered into the peephole and finding Kurt rocking his heels back and forth. She brought the walkie-talkie near her mouth, pressed the button, and whispered, "It's Kurt."<p>

Feedback resounded and Serial Killer Quinn pressed the speaker on her right thigh and she could hear the muffled sounds of Dork Quinn saying, "_Why __can__'__t__ you__ say__ '__Alert __status __red__'__?_"

"Are we going to argue about me not using military terms right now? Kurt's here and if you don't hurry up, I'm going to kill him," Serial Killer Quinn threatened and she covered the speaker with her left palm.

"_Okay,__ okay.__ Crap. __Fuck. __Shit. __Fucking __shit. __Shitting__ fuck. __Wait, __wait. __Give __me __a __minute.__ Tops._"

Another few seconds came a second ring, and if Kurt kept this up, Judy would wake up anytime now.

Serial Killer Quinn shook her head and rolled her eyes, heading upstairs as to what Dork Quinn was taking so long.

"What's taking you—" Serial Killer Quinn bit her lip, a smile threatening to come out.

"Now, answer the door!"

"Lion Quinn does not like to be bossed—"

"Go!" Dork Quinn pushed Lion Quinn out of the door after Serial Killer Quinn made way with a gesture of a hand like she was showing the messy blonde the way.

Serial Killer Quinn closed the door and locked it, vice gripping the knob until the pounding and scratching from the other side subsided.

Dork Quinn sighed. Serial Killer quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I don't want to talk about it." Dork Quinn took off her ripped shirt and chucked it at her computer, imagining that it was Lion Quinn.

This was for Rachel. Dork Quinn had to remind herself that as she rummaged through the hamper for clothes. She winced and cussed out a few swear words when she licked her lips, forgetting the fresh wound on her bottom lip Lion Quinn had scratched. Another string of expletives tumbled forth from her mouth when she realized that they hadn't done laundry at all.

"This is for Rachel, this is for Rachel, this is for Rachel."

Dork Quinn pressed her forefinger on the fleshy fold and retracted it, and sure enough there was blood. She straightened up, turned around, and closed her eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nausea hitting her as another batch of soft curses spewed out from her.

"Your labium inferius oris is bleeding." Serial Killer Quinn was still leaning against the door as she assessed her from afar, measuring her. She had never heard Dork Quinn sputter so much profanity within an hour. "You have hemophobia? You play violent, gore games but you can't handle the actual sight of blood. Fascinating."

"You're making it sound like I'm some kind of experiment. And no, I'm not hemophobic. It's just… it's bleeding too much," Dork Quinn said, her eyes still shut closed.

"Then stop talking."

"I will if you stop talking, too."

Right. Serial Killer Quinn was here. Alone with her. Someone who might whip out a manual of_ One Thousand Ways to Die_ and try it on her.

Awesome. Just freakin' awesome.

She could hear incoming footsteps and Dork Quinn moved backwards and the latter could hear her sigh.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"Yeah, right," Dork Quinn said. Her eyes shot open when she felt Serial Killer Quinn's hand gripping her left arm.

"Let me have a look at it." Serial Killer Quinn could see the fear in her eyes and she raised her arms up, backing away with a smirk. "Okay, okay. But that's probably going to be infected if you don't let me treat it soon."

Dork Quinn thought for a while. If she wasn't going to let Serial Killer Quinn treat it, she would have an infection. If she would have an infection, she would die. If she would die, she would never have Rachel. If she would never have Rachel, she would never forgive herself. Maybe that happening to her was farfetched, but she didn't want to show up on Rachel's doorstep with a busted lip.

"…Fine."

"Great." Serial Killer Quinn pushed herself off the door once again and went off to her space to find her medic kit. "…So after this, want to play Murder Mystery?"

"But there're only two of us."

Serial Killer Quinn peered over her own right shoulder, her back still on the former as she said, "Exactly."

A pause, and Serial Killer Quinn swore she heard a nervous squeak.

* * *

><p>Lion Quinn growled at the door. They would soon pay. With nothing else to do but comply for now, Lion Quinn stomped all the way to front door and opened it with a force that had Kurt Hummel flinching out of his spot.<p>

"What?" Lion Quinn asked.

Kurt's hand flew to his chest. "Jesus, Quinn. I don't know what's more horrifying right now, you scaring the bejeezus out of me or you wearing that Supergirl costume."

This was not the person Kurt had seen last Friday night because the sight before him came out from a rejected DC comic. The question as to why he had a bit of knowledge of superheroes, someone would have to blame that on one Blaine Anderson. And at this moment, he kind of regretted why knew Supergirl in the first place.

His endeavor to look anywhere but the costume was to no avail and he had the sudden urge to gouge his eyes out with a spoon just so he couldn't look at Quinn's abysmal choice of clothing. And no traces of blush or mascara on her face to boot.

Not that Quinn wasn't beautiful, because she was. Drop dead gorgeous, even. He was envious of her pores and she could even pull off a smokey eye look—which he could never achieve, but that was straying away from his point. Makeup was considered a staple in high school and seeing her with no foundation and chapped lips made him want to scream in horror.

And God, were those split-ends he saw?

Never would he expect to see the day Quinn Fabray not in a cardigan and a babydoll dress, only to replace Rachel, the one he always thought would forever relive one of his worst fashion nightmares.

Was there some kind of costume party so early in the morning?

Did he not get the memo of November and December being fused together?

Was this one of Mr. Schuester's weekly themed assignments?

"You're not Rachel."

Kurt sighed, a smile creeping up. How sweet. Quinn was searching for Rachel. Just from that thought, he wasn't in the least bit insulted. And Kurt's eyes widened.

Wait a minute.

Was she implying what he thought she was implying?

Oh God, were they already in the role-playing stage?

More importantly, did Rachel break up with Finn already?

No. That would be impossible, not to mention expeditious. Rachel may be a bit on the hopeless side of the love department, but she wouldn't do that.

Would she?

"Quinn, if you don't mind me asking, are you and Rachel…?" Kurt waved his hand over the costume.

Lion Quinn lit up when she heard her second most favorite name in the world. "Rachel? Is Rachel here?"

"Uh… no," Kurt said and Lion Quinn's shoulders sagged at that. "Rachel is probably at school by now. She _is_ one of the earliest there."

"Then I'll go now."

"Wait! Quinn!" Kurt yelled when Lion Quinn got off into a sprint, the cape billowing against the autumn wind.

* * *

><p>It wasn't unknown to other people that she hadn't ridden a motorcycle because of how unsafe it was and how there never had been an opportunity nor the excuse to ride one. It was not that she was against it; she was just not rather fond of the idea that it was an ideal vehicle for everyday purposes. Rain and snow were perfect examples to support her notion.<p>

But to say that riding a motorcycle wasn't risky, exhilarating, and thrilling all at the same time was a blatant lie. She, forgetting to tell Zombie Apocalypse to go slow, was pretty sure that they were past the speed limit, but she didn't really care that much and didn't really talk that much, only that she was too engrossed at seeing Lima, Ohio in a new light, passing by her in such a blurring speed.

It felt good and Zombie Apocalypse Quinn, in her own caring way, once in a while would tell the brunette where they were now and would countdown as to when she would swerve left or right so she wouldn't be too alarmed.

And when Rachel sensed the _Ducati_ Diavel slowing down to a stop in a hidden corner, just a block away from the McKinley High campus, she felt that the ride was over too soon. But she didn't need to tell her that. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to stroke Quinn Fabray's ego. She might get the wrong idea that she was interested or something.

"And can I drop you here? I can't afford to be seen." Rachel nodded against her back and moved back a bit, still under some kind of spell.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn twisted around, face to face with Rachel as she bent forward. She grabbed both sides of the helmet and pulled it off from Rachel's head, dropping it down to the asphalt ground.

Rachel blinked when Zombie Apocalypse Quinn's arms slid underneath hers, her hands fisting around tail end of the bike. Rachel cleared her throat. "Thank you, Quinn. I have to go now."

The pink-haired raised an eyebrow. "That's all I'm going to get?"

"Um…." Rachel was lost in the sudden scrutiny. "If what you're implying is that I owe you one, how about some vocal lessons?"

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn shook her head. "I need something that can be claimed right now."

"…Like what?"

"A kiss."

"_Quinn_," Rachel said, scowling. "I don't have time for this."

"Come on. You know you want to."

It didn't escape the pink-haired girl that Rachel was giving her mixed signals here.

"No, I don't want to."

"…Alright." Zombie Apocalypse pulled away, still smiling as Rachel hopped off. Maybe next time, then.

Rachel straightened her blue jersey pocket skirt, looking everywhere but her when she exchanged the jacket for her beret. "Thanks again."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn accepted it and spun around, facing once again the dashboard of her bike. "No problem."

"…Wait, where are you going?" Rachel asked when the pink-haired girl flicked the start button and kicked the sidestand, supporting the leaning bike with right foot. "You aren't mad, are you?"

"No, why would I be?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm just going to the grocery story to stock up on food so we can avoid raiding the refrigerator and Mom finding out about us."

"But you're not going to school. And I don't want you skipping your curricular activities just because I refuse to give you a kiss," Rachel explained after she had reached down for the helmet and had passed it on to a grateful Zombie Apocalypse Quinn.

"No. Well, not yet anyway." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn shrugged, passing a hand through her pink hair as she scanned the exterior of the campus before returning her gaze on her. "It's not my turn."

"Turn? So who's going to…?"

"You'll find out soon enough," she said. "And about the kiss…."

And before she knew it, a pair of soft lips grazed over her cheek.

"Just something to remember me by," she whispered and pulled away with a grin. She put on her helmet, winked through the fiberglass, and took off.

* * *

><p>A still panting Kurt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he glanced between a quiet Lion Quinn riding shotgun eating the last of his lunch that comprised his grilled chicken a la diabla and paella and on the road.<p>

He thanked the lucky stars that he had been able to take hold of the cape while his other hand had been busy steadying the wheel without any major or minor accidents occurring. She was strong, he had to give her that. Like the Hulk kind of strong, and if it hadn't been the fact that the sudden pull of the spandex constricted Lion Quinn's throat, well, he would have been a goner by now. And his Lincoln's windshield would have been broken for the second time if _he_ was the one being pulled.

What happened after that was a whole lot of bribing—ergo, the lunch—and a whole lot of pleading before Lion Quinn agreed to hitch.

This better be worth it.

"Quinn," Kurt said. "Are… Are you alright?"

Lion Quinn grunted in response.

Kurt sighed. What was wrong with her?

There must be a way to get through her somehow.

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry did her usual psycho power walk when she was mad. And oh, she was mad alright. She didn't like being manhandled. Didn't like it at all. And there was enough manhandling to go around from the two Quinns alone. She bypassed her warm-ups and went straight to her locker, putting in her combination with a vengeance. All she focused on was how she was going to give whoever this Quinn would be going to school a piece of her mind.<p>

She had enough of this. She had it all planned in her head now—find this Quinn and scold her to the point of bringing back the old Quinn, find Finn, have the set list proposal ready for glee, sing in glee, and have the peace she needed.

* * *

><p>"I'm back," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she catapulted herself through the window with ease.<p>

"You're back!" Dork Quinn almost wanted to kneel before her boots and kiss the dirty leather as she took away the doggie bag from the pink-haired girl's grasp. Dork Quinn reached in for the open-faced bacon sandwich inside it.

"What happened to her lip?" Zombie Apocalypse Quinn asked as Dork Quinn tossed her one.

Serial Killer Quinn leaned on the footboard of the bed, already opening the plastic container. "I didn't hurt her. And don't worry. It only needed a couple of stitches. Also, Kurt visited us, by the way."

She was taken aback by the answer and the thought that the two had been getting along. But with Serial Killer Quinn, you'd never know.

* * *

><p>Well the two steps of her plan didn't work, that was for sure—or more accurately, didn't even start.<p>

Not only had she not seen Finn all day, she also had not seen Quinn in any of their shared classes. The universe might not be on her side today.

What was weird though was that Kurt had been fidgety during their second period, like he couldn't wait to get out of the classroom. And what Rachel had predicted came true—Kurt had grabbed his books and didn't even bother to spare a single glance or a blind wave of goodbye to Rachel when he jogged out of the classroom, heading to what Rachel had noticed was the direction of their cafeteria, which was even weirder since it had been so early in the morning.

Rachel pushed through the double doors with an exasperated sigh, and as always, was the most punctual out of all members of New Directions.

"Hi, Brad," she said with a chirp in her voice, trying her best to conceal her thoughts as she waved at him.

Brad nodded at her, a small smile gracing on his scruffy face as he sat there and waited for the others to come, letting Rachel have the time to organize her homework and music sheets and the privacy to go into reflection.

She didn't really go into deep with it since a husky, familiar alto yelled, "Rachel!"

She had time to catch herself from the initial shock that came along with the sound of her heart hammering in her chest as she looked up, ready to give whoever Quinn this was a verbal beating of the year.

"Quinn I—" Rachel's jaw slackened at the sight just by the piano. Just about every coherent word was lost in her throat.

"Oh, thank God." Kurt, who jogged towards Lion Quinn's side, slowed to a walk before doubling over as he tried to regain his breathing, his nonexistent dream of being a marathon runner dying along with him. "I thought I lost you."

"Hey! Kurt! Hey!" Blaine rammed himself into his boyfriend with a blinding smile, leaving both of them on the ground, one not amused and the other laughing at their own fall.

Puck groggily nodded to no one as he entered the room with his usual bravado before stumbling over the two bodies, his face rubbing against the grimy floor as he crawled on the ground.

"Go on without me…."

"'Sup, my peeps." Artie raised his fist in the air as he rolled to his spot, not bothering to rotate his wheelchair as he faced the risers, his head lolling back and forth.

Still flabbergasted, Rachel's eyes snapped towards Lion Quinn, who was stalking her with those rapacious eyes, and to a horrified Kurt, and to a hysterical Blaine, and to Puck and Artie, who seemed to be intoxicated or something. And to the rest of her glee club members piling in the choir room.

Tina, Sugar, and Mercedes circled around the madness that was before them and sat down to their usual places, befuddlement etching their faces. Brittany joined in with a grin and tackled the three boys. Santana looked at them with the expression she donned when nothing made sense.

"What the _fuckery_ is this?"

* * *

><p>With Kurt dragging Blaine up to his seat, Santana slapping Puck's grubby hands away from Brittany and hauling her up from the ground, Artie facing forward, Puck sitting properly, and a lecturing Rachel sitting on Lion Quinn's lap, everybody settled down.<p>

Well, not really settled down.

"Rachel." Lion Quinn was purring and sighing all over the place, the material of her costume sliding against Rachel's thigh as she nuzzled even further in her neck.

"Quinn, I told you, enough is enough. This is not going to happen."

"No."

Well, her effort on talking was useless. This Quinn was the most stubborn yet.

"I told you it wasn't going to work," Kurt said, pressing his hands on both of his shoulders as he tried to restrain a bouncing Blaine to his seat.

"Are you telling me that you've been with her?" Rachel asked as she turned her head away when Lion Quinn's lips were a little too close for comfort for her.

"More like babysitting her." Well, that answered Rachel's question as to why he had been so antsy. "And Blaine, too." Kurt didn't know what was going on with Blaine. "Quinn's like that since morning. It's like her brain's downgraded to a Neanderthal's. She wouldn't even let me change her clothes."

"Wait. You don't have classes with her—" and it hit her. Rachel's head snapped to a sheepish Kurt. "You went to Quinn's house."

It wasn't a question, and instead, it was accusatory.

"No I didn't."

"Rachel! Look at me, Rachel!"

"_Kurt_," Rachel said, ignoring Lion Quinn's pout and need for attention.

"Hey! Kurt! Look at my black manly bowtie, Kurt! Isn't it all black and manly?"

Kurt was also ignoring Blaine, whose brain was also decimated to that of a five year-old. "Alright, alright. I may have passed by the Fabray house to have a quick chat."

"About what?"

"Nothing."

"It's clearly not nothing considering what you witnessed—"

"Alright, that's it," Mercedes said after she had stood up, annoyed. "It's our first day back in New Directions and we really don't need some drama right now."

"Preach to Merc, y'all. True dat."

"And just when it was getting good." Santana rolled her eyes, intertwining her hand with Brittany's. Now that she thought about it, she missed the entertainment value of New Directions—there always seemed to be always happening.

"And what's up with him?" Tina pointed to Artie. She was missing her boyfriend, who was the most dependable and steadiest out of all the guys in glee. And without him by her side right now, the tolerance level she had with this group was dwindling down to nil.

"I don't know." Brittany shrugged, still watching Puck and his shit-eating grin. "But look at Puck petting his mohawk like how I pet Lord Tubbington."

"I'm going to name you Blitz and I want to hug you, and squeeze you, and love you forever…."

"I don't know why this group even won Sectionals and Regionals last year," Sugar said. "The judges must've been high choosing you to even go to New York."

Mr. Schue was on cue as always before anyone who was still sane could even argue with that.

"Bad news, guys. Rory and Mike have gotten food poison and Finn's got diarrhea." Mr. Schuester uncapped the marker and wrote on the whiteboard, his back turned to them.

"Jesus, Mr. Schue. We don't want the image of Shamu blowing anywhere besides his blowhole seared into our minds."

Mercedes was now focusing on the current problem at hand. "Great. Now what're we going to do?"

"We just have to wait until they get better. But we still got to practice, guys." Mr. Schuester turned around and registered what was going on in here. "Quinn, why are you in a costume? And Rachel, why are you on her lap?"

"Mr. Schue, I'd rather not you asking me that and instead, it would be more contributive of you if you would just help me."

Santana smirked. "Oh, no no no. She's just fine, Mr. Schue. Right there. Trust me. With the way Q's been acting all silent and stalker crazy on Berry last week, I think she's finally acting on her feelings."

Rachel glared at her. Lion Quinn nodded.

Mr. Schuester shook his head and decided to put his mindset onto the competition and not get into the drama, because nothing good had ever come out with him being involved.

"So, do you have any song choices? Solo ideas? Duets? Anything?"

"Why are you texting me, Blaine? I'm right here," Kurt asked, having the urge to berate him after he had received another one of his nonsensical messages.

"Oh! Right! Sorry!" Blaine stood and damn it felt _good_. No one was going to tell him to sit down today. So this is what standing for no reason felt like in the choir room. "Hey, hey, hey, guys! _Guys!_ Mr. Schue! I've got the perfect, _perfect _song for Sectionals! It's currently got fifty-two million hits on YouTube and the judges are gonna love it! Love, love, love it!" Blaine's megawatt smile lit up the whole place.

Kurt kneaded his forehead. "I thought we're past the top forty choices, Blaine."

"Alright!" Mr. Schuester clapped his hands and motioned him to come to the front. "Take the floor, Blaine."

"How can anyone take the floor, San? Isn't it heavy, and like… on the ground?" Santana squeezed Brittany's hand and smiled at her.

"No, no, wait! Just listen, Kurt. I'm sure you'll all love it." He threw the music sheet to Brad, which landed on his chest. Blaine swayed his hips into a figure eight and the beat hadn't even started yet. Brad scratched his head as he read the notes but started playing after he had placed it on the music rack.

"Aw yeah… playas, this beat the bomb folks. No joke."

Puck bobbed his head, pumping his fist in the air before falling in his seat. Lion Quinn continued nuzzling into Rachel's neck.

"Nyan nyan nyan nyan…."

"Oh my God. That's me and Charity's jam right there." Brittany danced in her seat with the beat.

_What the fuck have they been snorting?_

The question loomed in Santana's head, quivering in restrained laughter as she pressed her free hand against her mouth as she tried to keep a straight face. Mr. Schue was tempted to just quit on the spot and give everyone a break. Kurt looked like he wanted throw himself out of the choir room window.

"Yup. Looks like they all finally gone bonkers." Mercedes shook her head.

"Tell me why again we disbanded the Troubletones?" Sugar watched the horror before her. "I mean, we were so awesome."

"Wow. It's even more annoying than the original," Tina said. She might have stuck through and through with New Directions, but this was just a whole new level of wrong. "And am I the only one who thinks that we're, I don't know… underreacting?"

Meanwhile, Rachel and Quinn were in their own little world. Rachel was too busy scolding Quinn that she didn't even care at how this song should be condemned for all eternity and Quinn too enamored to even care at, well, everything.

"Rachel."

"I told you, your attempt on winning me over is feckless, so you might as well release me."

"Rachel."

"And just so you know, I do not like to be controlled this way. It's abusive and offensive."

"Rachel."

"Not to mention it's incredibly rude and inappropriate of you to force me to sit on your lap."

"Rachel."

"What, Quinn?" Rachel's head spun around to meet Lion Quinn's face centimeters away from her.

"…Hi," Lion Quinn said. It was low, quiet, husky, with an enamored grin.

Rachel blinked, her cheeks reddening by the second as the last remnants of her anger dissipated into naught. It was undeniable—Quinn's indecisiveness was rubbing off on her.

"I-I need to go. If you'll excuse me." Rachel squirmed out of her arms—and this time with Lion Quinn relenting—and stormed off the way only Rachel Berry could. Lion Quinn looked on at the retreating figure, her posture shrinking.

Was the superhero costume too much?

Mr. Schuester slammed his head on the fall of the piano. Brad could only feel for him as he finished the last note of the song. Brittany, Artie, and Puck, who was still on the ground, whooped in chorus as Sugar, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina awkwardly clapped for Blaine. Santana, who was filing her nails, smirked and arched an eyebrow at what she had witnessed.

"Thank you!" Blaine bowed thrice in record time, before he jogged to Kurt and spun the latter around.

"Looks like someone needs to get laid or something. I'm guessing Finn's still terrible in bed because of the jellyroll. Must be smothering her with his blubber," Santana said to herself, tapping the nail file on her wrist.

Brittany leaned towards her direction and pouted. "Rachel's sad. I think she needs to go on a date with someone she likes."

"You mean Finn the Incredible Bulk?" Santana scoffed at that. "Yeah. I think she gets _plenty_ of that."

"No. I mean Quinn." Brittany watched Lion Quinn go into a dark corner and sulk.

Santana perked up at that and confusion crossed her features. "No, B. Finn's her boyfriend."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Then what do you—? Oh." Santana's eyes sparkled as they faced each other. "_Oh_."

"That's it!" Kurt donned a bright smile and looked at her as if Brittany held all the secrets in the world. Maybe _that_ was why the hazel-eyed beauty was so frustrated and just down right ridiculous right now unlike the one he had seen last week. Brittany knew that maybe, just maybe, Rachel liked her but didn't act on it! Brittany was a genius. "Brittany, you're a genius!"

"Does everyone listen to private conversations now?"

"It's glee," Kurt said flatly to Mercedes. "Anyway, you two have _got_ to help me."

"Stop right there, Hummel." Santana held up a hand, shaking her head. "_Olvídate_. No. Let's go, Britt-Britt." With linked pinkies, they grabbed their books and went down the risers.

"Come on, Santana. Please?" Kurt said and followed the inseparable pair all the way out of the room.

"Hey! Kurt! Wait for me!" Blaine raised his right hand midair, standing still.

Sugar looked at him funny. "You can move anytime now, you know."

Blaine sighed. He was going to miss standing up without Finn breathing down his neck. With that thought, he ran out of the room.

"So, I guess that means I'm out, too. See you, Mr. Schue."

"Yeah. Bye, Mr. Schue."

"_My Strange Addiction_ is on right now anyway. Bye."

"Need to jet, too, Mr. Schue. Peace, I'm out, no doubt."

"Rachel…."

Puck rolled over, getting up. Like nothing ever happened, he strutted past him, saluting Will on his way out.

Will sighed for the umpteenth time.

* * *

><p>"Santana, Brittany, wait, please!" Kurt weaved in and out of the crowd, finding any signs of swishing red skirts and raven and blonde ponytails.<p>

Brittany peered over her own left shoulder. "San, give Kurt a chance. Let's hear him out. Please."

"But, Britt, I—" and with a pout and pair of adorable baby blues staring right through her, she knew she lost the battle before she even thought about fighting it. Santana slowed to a stop with a sigh. "Okay, okay."

With the smile once again on Brittany's lips, all was right for Santana.

"Finally. Thank you. Oh, God." His free hand rested on one of the lockers as he panted and clutched his white trench to steady his breathing.

"Kurt!" Blaine caught up with them, still perky and still beaming. Santana wanted to punch the grin off his face.

Brittany could sense the aggravation in Santana. She reached for her hand. "San… calm down."

"Yeah. I'm fine, B. I'm still trying… getting used to be nice," Santana said and noticed Blaine and Kurt's intertwined hands. Yep, this was so fucking gay. Gay diddy gay gay gay. The fiery Latina coughed, averting her eyes to Kurt. "So, just get on with it, Hummel."

"Well," Kurt said. With Santana, someone should know better than to skirt around the real issue. "You know I will never out anyone if they don't want to, but I think it's alright, since Quinn's been so obvious about it and you two are the only known lady gays around here…."

"And you think that Supergirl and Berry should get together."

Kurt nodded. "We know Quinn's more than ready. But maybe, with your help, it'll speed up the process with, you know, Rachel's denial, and as Brittany puts it, her infatuation towards Quinn."

Santana shifted her weight to her left foot. "So what you're saying is, you're going to betray Mr. Finncapable, who's your stepbrother, just so Q and Midget would elope and run away to gay land and vomit rainbows at each other's mouths for all eternity."

"Look, I know I sound like a backstabber here—"

"You are."

"—but we know Rachel's really not happy with him," Kurt said. There was a small tremor in his voice as the restless ball of energy that was Blaine Anderson bounced on the balls of his feet again. "Just _one_ double date with them on Saturday night. I'll even arrange the itinerary for the four of you. I'll treat you two Breadstix for a _week_, even. All you need to do is convince them because I'm probably sure Rachel's still mad at me and I need to give her time to cool off. Quinn… well, just no. So please? Come on." Santana scoffed at the plea.

Santana had already been beaten down enough with her and Brittany's relationship and she _really_ didn't want to get into the mix here. Sure, she was trying to be much nicer than before and made certain that Snixx was under control, but who was she kidding—she weaned on insults, and that trait of hers was never to come out of her system even if she wanted to. Transformations, no matter how small or big, just don't happen overnight.

But then again, they had helped her with that sophomore rugby pervert. Maybe she could start here….

"Come on, San. Rachel's not happy. Quinn's not happy. Negative and negative makes a positive, right?" Brittany said, nudging her on the ribs with a smile. "Come on. Let's help them."

Santana laughed and rolled her eyes. Oh, well. "Alright, alright." She turned her attention to Kurt, now serious. "Be ready with the cash, Hummel, 'cause we be getting our Breadstix on after this. And you owe us. Big time."

Kurt did his little shimmy dance. "You can bet on that."

With a terse nod, Santana tugged Brittany's hand, signaling her that the conversation with the boys was over.

"Bye, guys!" Brittany tossed them another smile and a wave before she walked forwards and interconnected Santana's arm with hers.

"You're amazing, Kurt! You did it!" Blaine scruffed Kurt's hair with pride.

"Oh, you did not just do that." Kurt looked like he was about to pass out anytime now as his hand paused near the side of his head, not daring to even touch and discover that it was now ruined.

* * *

><p>Fast forward to another two days. Finn still wasn't present, so the pink-haired Quinn was still the one dropping her off and she wasn't protesting that much anymore. Rory, too—Brittany explained that his stomach was still upset, but he would be back by Monday. Mike had been back two days ago in Tina's arms. Glee was still crazy as ever but Blaine had calmed down, much to Kurt's relief. Artie had also regained his senses. Puck wasn't stumbling and steamrolling over everything like Tarepanda anymore. But still, the messy blonde….<p>

"Rachel."

"Quinn," Rachel said as she stood there in front of the campus after school hours, the sun setting before her. She completely disremembered that she had no one to fetch her. She had too much on her mind than usual.

And with one swift swoop, Rachel was somehow now riding piggyback on Lion Quinn.

"You still don't have a ride." And Lion Quinn walked, securing the back of Rachel's knees with firm yet gentle grips. Rachel exhaled again, her forehead resting on Lion Quinn's shoulder blade as the light bounce of each step soothed her.

It was the third day now, and Rachel, with her arms looped around Lion Quinn's neck, wasn't even protesting that much to this Quinn either.


	3. Part III

Author's Note: I should start with an apology on why this took unbelievably long. I've been extremely busy and had a serious case of writer's block. I hope you all would understand. I'm sure this doesn't even begin to make up for my hiatus. It's really short and I can't bang out chapters like I used to, but I'll do my best to continue this story. I would also like to apologize in advance for any errors I've made since this part isn't beta'd. Thank you so much for bearing with me and again, thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, and the like. They're absolutely appreciated and they truly keep me going.

* * *

><p>Of Inconsistencies and Continuities<p>

Part III

* * *

><p>Rachel silently took note of the Quinn's cadence as they walked towards the former's home. It had only been a few days ago all of this happened, and it felt like she had already gone through three years' worth of drama within the club. This was not on her planner—not on her planner at all.<p>

"Rachel," Quinn said.

Coming out of her trance, Rachel sighed. "What?"

"Are you mad?"

"What? No, I'm—" Rachel stopped mid-sentence and cleared her throat. "I'm not mad. But can you put me down?"

"No."

"Quinn, just put me down," Rachel said, her eyes averting to no particular direction. "People are giving us weird looks."

"No."

Her stomping reflexes were kicking in now.

"Quinn, if you do not put me down this instant I'm going to—"

Then a small _thud_.

"We're here," Quinn said, before kissing Rachel on the cheek. "Bye."

Just like that, Rachel watched in her peripheral vision a red cape fleeting past her lawn. Rachel wasn't a sigher, but in these past couple of days, she had been just that more than her usual huffing self. She didn't know whether she was losing her unwavering, adamant streak lately or that she was simply lost into all of this. Rachel wanted more so than ever to have a semblance of stability in these circumstances, only finding herself getting more and more conflicted with her feelings towards Quinn and her desire to ensconce with Finn to further secure normality.

Rachel needed to call Finn, tell him all about what was going on, ignoring that sinking feeling that he wasn't going to believe what she was going to say.

Rachel turned around and ambled her way to her porch steps and then sat down. Reaching in her pocket, she held the phone and began to search through her contacts.

"What are you doing?"

Rachel's head snapped to where the voice came from and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her attention returned to her phone. Surprise barely registered anymore as she continued to scroll down. Of course _this_ blonde psychopath of a Quinn had the audacity to silently turn up uninvited and unwanted.

"So you're stalking me now?"

With her hands behind her and a more playful skip in her step, Quinn pondered as she went around the corner.

"No," Quinn said, looming in front of Rachel. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth either. "Just checking if that blonde hurt you."

Rachel avoided her gaze. "Thanks."

Quinn frowned and crossed her arms, not missing the flat tone. "No problem."

Quinn watched Rachel fiddling with her phone. She must have gone through her contact list thrice now, Quinn observed, before finally settling at that one name Rachel was ready to call once she wasn't around—that, she was certain of. Quinn quirked an eyebrow and finally sat down beside her.

"So, I haven't seen Finn around."

"What do you want, Quinn?" Rachel asked.

"All I want is to talk to you," Quinn said. "I heard Finn hasn't been around for a couple of days now and I'm worried about you. Is that so out of place of me?"

"Coming from you? Yes." Quinn didn't even flinch when Rachel suddenly stood up and finally looked at her.

"Stop manipulating me, Quinn. I don't need all this—this _bullshit_ going on with you around! When you came along, everything has been a complete mess," Rachel said, her voice uncharacteristically breaking. "I love Finn. You didn't have to hurt him like that. And yes, I know you did it. I'm not stupid. And you're just making me more and more confused. So just stop—" Rachel gestured, or rather flailed towards Quinn's person. "—all of this."

Quinn's features were blank as she watched Rachel virtually heaving in front of her from the point she was exerting to come across. She was rather careful not to fray Rachel's ever dissipating defeat and ever growing resolve. Quinn moved closer and Rachel stood there, her right hand clenching her phone and her jaw twitching.

And the silence grew uncomfortable for Rachel—Quinn noted when Rachel's eyes darted back and forth to avoid Quinn's beneath the harsh fluorescent light in the porch. Before she was able to register that she was talking a step backwards for every Quinn's step forwards and feel the wood against her spine, Rachel was trapped between the porch post and Quinn's body.

This wasn't the first time Rachel was cornered by her. Quinn leaned over to her ear and Rachel felt a prickling sensation as the former's steady breaths collided against her exposed tan expanse of skin. It was a sharp contrast from the cold of this particular evening.

"I'm sorry for hurting Finn," Quinn said, eyeing her lips. "but I didn't know you had it in you to swear." Rachel looked up as Quinn's right hand rested on the post just above her, and then back at her. "Do I have this effect on you?"

This Quinn had the gall to apologize and change the topic all in one sentence, Rachel thought at that moment. And yet, Rachel only pursed her lips tighter, as if it would prevent her mouth to betray her.

"If you don't say something…" Quinn's voice trailed off into a whisper, her lips grazing Rachel's.

"Well, damn." Santana walked towards them as Brittany followed closely behind. Quinn rolled her eyes and let out a sharp exhale as Rachel instantaneously took an interest at the floor.

"You know, at first, I didn't believe Chang that we were going all borderline incest, but," Santana said, shaking her head. "I should not have doubted that Asian mind."

"I told you Mike's a psychic," Brittany said.

Quinn glared. "What do you want, Santana?"

"Nothing, nothing," Santana said, smirking as she held her hands up. "Just never thought Berry's into pussy, but then again, even a flaccid three-inch starter dildo is better than whatever Finn's packing."

It was Rachel's turn to glare, completely erasing the memory that Quinn had almost kissed her right then and there. "Just so you know, Finn's gotten—"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah." Santana held three fingers up. "First of all, no. Second, I don't want to hear the sloppy sex you're having with the Gerber Baby. And third of all,_ no_."

"She's right, though," Quinn said with Brittany nodding in the background.

Santana raised an eyebrow towards her. "What's up with you lately? It's like you've gone all Jekyll and Hyde on me. But then again," Santana said, shrugging. "You've been doing that ever since we joined glee club. So…"

Quinn returned the gesture. "You two were the ones who just interrupted us and making this all awkward. But then again," Quinn said, also mimicking the shrug. "You've been doing that ever since we joined glee club."

"Repressed ass."

"Pussy whipped."

Santana frowned, failing to come up with a suitable comeback. "At least we all can agree on Finn's ineptness."

"True."

"I still don't get why you're still with him," Brittany said. "You have Quinn now."

"Okay, are you three just here to mock Finn?" Rachel asked as she crossed her arms. "Because I do _not _have time for this. I'm already late for my nightly vocal warm ups."

Brittany shrugged. "I just came along for the four-way."

Rachel had to pick her jaw off the floor and looked at Santana. Quinn simply looked bored.

"_What?_"

Santana rolled her eyes and seemed hold back for a second. "No! Fuck no. It's not like that. Brit means _date._ A double date_._" Santana shifted her weight. "Although, I _am _curious that you and that tongue of yours—"

Quinn held her hand up. "_Don't _even finish that."

"Are you serious?" Rachel asked. "I have a _boyfriend_. Finn. Who I love."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Brittany's head tilted ever so slightly. "Is that a no?"

"I…" Rachel's voice trailed off when Santana glared at her. The former only glared back and then returned her attention to Brittany. "No. I'm sorry, but this seems all out of nowhere and you two have virtually no reason or logic as to why we should be dragged all the way to some kind of date."

"Oh…" Brittany looked at Santana.

Santana stood there as she crossed her arms. Rachel's brow furrowed deeper, almost proportionate to the length of the silence Santana created. Santana glanced at Quinn and then glanced at Rachel.

"You're going to regret that."

With them gone, Quinn and Rachel were left standing there, wondering whether they should heed their warnings with gravity or not. When Quinn faced her, Rachel was actually afraid of a repeat earlier, but only becoming more confused that what she was also feeling was not unlike anticipation.

"I guess I should be going."

Relief. Disappointment?

"I think that is for the best."

Eye contact and then a silent bid of farewell, Rachel's inner turmoil only thrived. She looked at her phone again.

_Finn._

With another heavy sigh, she pocketed her phone and went inside.

* * *

><p>"Mmph!"<p>

"You never say no to Britt-Britt, Berry." Santana patted Rachel's thigh. "I told you last night that you'd regret saying that to her."

With her arms restrained from the cable tie and her mouth silenced with white bandana, Rachel struggled inside the trunk. Quinn wasn't faring so well either, and judging by the growling, Rachel assumed this was the leonine Quinn. The latter seemed almost in pain—Santana must have pulled the cable tie too hard, as if almost with a vengeance.

Which was no surprise at all considering that Quinn had bitten her left hand.

Santana smirked and winked at them. "Well, sit tight."

And then darkness.

* * *

><p>For what seemed a long time, Rachel tried to avert her thoughts to other things that didn't involve enclosed spaces, echoing a mantra in her head to calm her breathing. Rachel wasn't a violent person, but right now, her mind wandered to her strangling Santana and then feeding her to the ants.<p>

Rachel's features reposed at the thought. No one could blame her though, considering Santana and Brittany practically kidnapped them the night after Rachel declined their offer. She supposed the law would condone her if she ever did that. Self-defense, Rachel noted in her head.

But why, of all people, did Brittany have cable ties, she would never know. Brittany was far from an ordinary high school student. Well, if Rachel were honest, no one was in McKinley, including that cheerleader having that neck brace on for almost four years now.

Rachel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, counting from one to ten as she distracted herself with the casual thoughts, but when she heard some sort of gnawing sound, Rachel's breathing turned shallow.

_God, I hope it's not a rat._

It was hot inside the trunk and she knew that if a rat were to feel the slightest bit trapped, it would bite its way through anything. Including a certain five feet, three inched brunette trapped inside a car trunk with a certain five feet, six inched blonde whose vocabulary was that of a two-year old. Rachel cursed—all those early mornings on the elliptical would be wasted away if that rodent started to nibble on her. Then again, that was the least of her concerns.

This was where she'd die, Rachel surmised. She could see it now on the _Lima News_ – _Young teenage girl eaten alive by a rodent because she refused two lesbians on a double date._ If she'd die young, at least she would have had three Grammy Awards. And maybe a duet with Barbra Streisand.

Damn Santana and damn her dirty trunk.

And then the gnawing stopped, before the sound was replaced with Quinn sighing and very audible _snap_. Rachel's shoulders relaxed and closed her eyes, as if thanking to whoever was up there that it was only Quinn with her inhuman canines and upper body strength. Rachel wondered if she should ask for that juice Sue Sylvester was giving to the cheerleaders.

Rachel could feel Quinn turning around to face her. To the former, the trunk felt a little more cramped and a lot hotter than usual, even though Quinn was keeping her distance inside what little space they had.

"Rachel."

Rachel's eyes opened and fixated themselves on the dark silhouette of Quinn.

"Mmph?"

Her lungs seemed to have stopped functioning when Quinn scooted closer.

_Breathe._

The welcoming light positioned itself on Quinn's lips free from the bandana. Their lips were so close, Rachel felt like she was going to suffocate from the heat emanating from Quinn's body.

_Oh._

Quinn leaned in and then nipped Rachel's bandana, careful not to hurt her and made sure she didn't bite into her flesh. With one swift motion, Quinn pulled it down the bandana down, setting Rachel's mouth free as well.

"I—thanks, Quinn," Rachel whispered.

Wait, was she disappointed? Again? No, that wasn't it. It couldn't be. There was no way she was upset that Quinn didn't kiss her. This was just the lack of oxygen in her brain talking. Preposterous. Ludicrous. Outrageous. Absolutely impossible.

And as Rachel went through her thesaurus, Quinn's lips suddenly were on hers.

* * *

><p>Rachel's head was spinning, eyes fluttering closed once again. Quinn was kissing her, and it wasn't even a peck either—it was settling, trying to invite Rachel to respond. And when she seemed to have frozen in place, Quinn's right hand rested on the back of Rachel's head, pulled her closer. Quinn's hands glided down to the former's restrained wrists. Quinn pulled away for a second, and started pulling the cable tie.<p>

_Snap._

"Wha—" Rachel breathed out before Quinn was back, enclosing her fingers around her hands and guiding them to her neck.

Rachel, mustering out a, "Quinn, I can't." when she backed away, Quinn replied with another trite "No." and immediately closed the gap between them. And with Rachel was trapped between the rear of the backseat and Quinn's body, there wasn't anything else Rachel could do but to try her hardest not to be persuaded by her. This was the best time to be ignorant, to be obtuse to everything. It was just a kiss after all, Rachel convinced herself.

An innocent kiss that meant nothing at all.

_Wait. Oh my god._

Rachel moaned when Quinn's tongue parted her lips with ease, the last of her resolve chipped away as her arms wrapped around Quinn's neck like a vice.

Quinn responded with another sigh, flushing her body against her even more when Rachel was slowly, gradually reacting.

It was… _nice_, for lack of a better word, Rachel described it. It was not the time to even think for another synonym. It was not the time to think at all. Quinn's lips were soft and gentle and the sounds she was making was... _nice._

Rachel noted the slight aftertaste of her own lip-gloss against Quinn's tongue, a mixture of the slickness behind it glided just across the tip.

What a time to have SPF thirty inside her mouth.

Rachel could feel like she was going to combust at any moment when Quinn's hand tugged her hair to pull her head back as her lips started trailing down and settling down her neck.

"Oh, god," Rachel said, her voice cracking.

"Rachel," Quinn said, the name lost and taken by Rachel's lips. It sounded so visceral, but not the kind she thought she would hear from this Quinn.

Wait. Or was this _actually_ Quinn? _The _Quinn Fabray?

"Mm—" Rachel pulled back, her thumb resting on Quinn's bottom lip. "Quinn? Is—is that, this you?"

Breaths heaving, mouth parted slightly, and wide-eyed, Rachel didn't know whether Quinn was terrified or aroused or even both at the same time.

"Why are we in Santana's—" and that was all she could muster before Quinn started cringing.

* * *

><p><em>My head.<em> _Fuck._

Rachel's features and the mixture of darkness and light accompanying them inside the trunk swirled in her vision. Her head throbbed in pain and it was practically impossible for her to try to remember anything when her memories, or lack thereof, were bad enough as it was.

It was no use. What was going on? Why were they in someone's trunk in the first place? Were they kidnapped? Why were Rachel's lips so kissable? Why did they stop? There were so many questions.

Quinn did her best to look up only stopping to Rachel's mouth. Even moving her eyes hurt like hell.

_Quinn? Quinn? Are you okay? Just breathe, okay?_

Or at least that was what Quinn thought Rachel was saying. That damn stereo bass through the speakers didn't help either.

"That's it. I'm calling for—"

_Help._

* * *

><p>"Wait." Santana turned the volume knob down, completely silencing <em>Britney Spears<em>, to which resulted to Brittany pouting. Santana looked sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry, Brittany, but did you hear that?"

Brittany blinked before nodding.

"_Santana! Brittany!"_

"Is it a ghost trying to communicate with us?" Brittany asked.

"There's no way they've gotten out of the restraints. There's absolutely no way."

"_Guys! I swear to God, if you do not release us this instant I will personally report you to Mr. Schue and make certain that you two won't have solos for the rest of the school year!"_

Santana stopped at a curb and put on hazard. She rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply.

"Of course they have," Santana said to particularly no one, flailing and plopping her hands back down to the steering wheel. "And stop banging the trunk. I just got it repaired, damn it!"

She unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of her car. Brittany followed suit all the way to the trunk.

"Okay, what is it, Berry?" Santana asked once she opened the trunk and then immediately stopped herself. "Whoah. Is Q okay? And why are you two cuddling?"

"It took you long enough," Rachel said. "And I'm not—look, this isn't the time for asking trivial, unnecessary questions. Quinn's gone unconscious right now."

"I told you not to tie the bandana too tightly on her, San," Brittany said.

A neutral expression crossed Rachel's face. "It's not the bandana. Not the cable ties either."

Santana's frown deepened and crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"

"It's… something else entirely."

"Go on, I'm listening," Santana said. "And shouldn't we go to a hospital? I don't think Sandy's going to magically revive her with their specials."

"No! Just, will you get us out of here and get us to Breadstix where we can sit down and talk like civilized people? And in the backseat, this time," Rachel said. "I don't condone what you just did to us, but I'd rather not have you arrested for this and ruin our odds for Nationals."

Santana took a brief look over her shoulder, scanning the area for any nearby onlookers or possible police cars.

"Point." Santana turned her attention to Rachel cradling Quinn's head as best as she could inside what limited space they had. "Get out of there before someone sees us."

Santana proceeded to return to the driver's seat, with Brittany towed along as always.

"Oh no, seriously, thank you for the offer of helping," Rachel said, grunting as she struggled to get both legs out of the trunk lid. "I can definitely manage carrying a half-conscious, five-foot-six cheerleader all the way to the backseat."

"Boo hoo," was the only reply she got. She was ready to just drag Quinn across the pavement with her before she heard a muffled, "okay, okay. I'll help her."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Rachel," Brittany said, before a small smile appeared, reading her girlfriend like an open book in her periphery. "And Santana's sorry, too."<p>

Santana was about to contest what Brittany had just revealed but then something caught her eye in the rear-view mirror.

"Is that lip gloss?"

"I always wear lip gloss," Rachel said, looking absolutely offended. And to think, they mocked her once for getting ready for tranny prom.

Santana pressed her lips together, eyes crinkling. "Mmhmm."

"What?"

Not a peep except for the occasional grunting from Quinn, whose head nestled on Rachel's lap and nose nuzzled into the latter's stomach.

"Seriously, what?"

Brittany peeked through the mirror and cringed. "You're really bad at putting on makeup, Rachel. I mean, no offense."

"She's right. You got a little something on your…" Santana paused, before motioning with her right hand her own chin down to her neck. "Pretty much everywhere."

Rachel's brow furrowed before leaning closer to check her reflection. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, god." Rachel quickly wiped off the lip gloss with the palm of her hands, only smearing the sticky contents further across her face.

"I bet that's what you said when you two were getting your mack on." Santana wiggled her eyebrows.

"Sweet lady kisses," Brittany said in a sing-song voice.

Santana wasn't far off. In fact, she was spot on. Rachel decided to ignore commenting on that.

"Please, Santana," Rachel said, almost weeping inside her head as she rubbed her face with her favourite black sweater. "We don't need another Puck."

"Look at you," Santana said, grinning from ear to ear. "Didn't think you'd actually pull off some sort of _Out_ _of Sight_ scene on us_. _I'm actually proud of you."

"She kissed me out of nowhere. I was delirious," Rachel said, scoffing and crossing her arms. "We were delirious. It was hot inside the trunk."

"Don't blame the trunk, Berry. Just admit it. You got the hots for her, too. You may not be as repressed as Q, but you are totally gay for Fabray," Santana said. "I mean, who knows. You might find yourself having some weird epiphany shit sooner or later in some godforsaken place somewhere in this hellhole. While drunk, even. Plus sex."

"That's about the most farfetched thing I've heard."

Brittany shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Here's a little Spanish proverb from me to you, though," Santana said. "_A__l pescando y a la mujer, con los dedos ha de ser._"

"What does that even mean?"

Santana smirked. "When fishing or with women, one must use one's fingers."

Rachel squinted. "I hate you so much right now."

"Oh, no. How will I be able to sleep at night?"

* * *

><p>"What just happened?" Serial Killer Quinn asked. Doubled over at her surgical bench, she released the knife she was clutching so tightly. "It was like vertigo multiplied a hundred times."<p>

"That's an understatement of the year." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn kneaded her temples with both of her index and middle fingers. "I think I should cut down to a pack a day."

"That's enough Pokémon for tonight." Dork Quinn dashed over to the bathroom and locked herself. Gagging and vomiting ensued.

"Now I'm worried about that Thor-imitating blonde," Serial Killer Quinn said.

"I'm sure she experienced it," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said, slumping against her side of the wall. "I just hope she's okay. Do you think we should check up on her?"

"I don't think it's necessary. What concerns me now is whether this is some sort of recurring condition or not."

* * *

><p>"Wait, so let me get this straight," Santana said. "There are <em>four<em> Quinns? Like, actual four people. Four separate bodies."

"For the fourth time, yes." Rachel buried her face in her right hand. "Look, I don't get it either. And it's not like my answer is going to magically change no matter how many times you repeated your question, Santana."

Brittany shrugged, taking a bite out of the complimentary breadstick. "I don't know, San. It makes sense to me."

"Don't you think that's, oh I don't know, a bit insane?" Santana asked, leaning closer. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Rachel looked up. "Trust me, I wish this were all a dream and I'm in my bed right now."

"Don't you think Quinn having some sort of identity crisis or some type of personality disorder shit is more realistic than this idea you came up in your head?"

Quinn glared, growling. "Don't talk to Rachel like that."

Rachel sighed, shaking her head. "And she's back."

She shoved the breadsticks into Quinn's mouth, thinking that at least this would buy her time to at least discuss the current situation at hand.

"San, I think Rachel's telling the truth."

"Britt, it's too unbelievable." Another pout. "Okay, if I was to believe it, and emphasis on the if, that's just two Quinns. Where's the other two? Are they doing some kind of work shift on who gets dibs on you?"

"That's what I concluded from the way they're acting, yes."

Santana stared. "All I'm getting from this is that you're probably on crack."

"I most certainly am not!"

"That's not too far out compared to this fucked up story you've created. You sent Sunshine to a crack house." Santana held her hands up when Rachel narrowed her eyes. "I'm just saying."

Quinn growl was getting louder. "Don't dare talk to her like that."

"San, stop threatening Rachel. You're invoking Quinn."

"It's_ provoking_, Brittany," Rachel said. "And while yes, I do admit it is crazy, but don't you think it's too crazy to be fabricated?"

Santana leaned back and contemplated. This was totally messed up.

"I have no idea why you're telling us this," she said. "And I don't believe you just yet, but if Brittany does, well, we might just need to see this for ourselves."

Brittany nodded. "This happens in _Doctor Who_ all the time."

Rachel breathed deeply. "Thank you."

"I mean, look," Brittany said after taking another bite. "We met Quinn who wanted to kill Finn, and now we're eating with Quinn who wants to mate with Rachel right now. I mean, we know Quinn does this all the time, but don't you think it's a bit weird that she's now doing it almost every day?"

"Well, if you put it that way. But tell me again why you're telling us all this?" Santana asked and then pointed the breadstick back and forth. "You could have told Mercedes or Kurt or anyone."

Good question.

"Because I'm sure Mercedes would just tell me I'm 'cray' and chances are, Kurt would stage an intervention," Rachel said, looking at Brittany. "Plus I think Brittany believes me more than anyone and knows more about what's happening than any of us combined. And you two just happened to be attached by the hip, so…"

Good point.

"I hate to break the party, girls, but I've been standing her for thirty minutes and you haven't ordered anything yet," Sandy said, tapping her pen on the order pad. She had taken their orders too many times to even care what was going with these kids.

"Sorry," Rachel said, offering a smile to the waitress as she handed the menu back to her. "Just give me anything the usual vegan food you have available."

"Meat," Quinn could barely say as downed the last remnants of the breadsticks.

"And we'll both have the usual," Santana said, sneering.

"So that's one glass of water for the young lady, steak for her, and a shrimp cocktail and two salads for the couple."

Brittany raised her hand. "No mouse this time."

Quinn frowned at that.

Sandy nodded slowly and pursed her lips. "Right. Your food will be served in ten minutes,"

Rachel lifted her index finger. "Wait, I thought you had vegan options."

"We ran out of the vegan casserole. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"That'll be fine, thanks." Santana proceeded to wave her off and Sandy rolled her eyes but went to take care of their orders anyway. Santana drummed her fingers on the table before saying, "So, spit it out. What's the catch?"

"You better feed me later," Rachel said, slumping in her seat. "And there is no catch. I'm just so stressed in hiding this from everyone. She's—they're driving me insane."

"We're not your therapists, just so you know. Unless," Santana said before smirking. "You want us to help you hide this from Finn. After what you two just did in the trunk, Finn would blow a blood vessel."

"I don't know," Rachel said, sighing as Quinn started rubbing her nose into her neck. "I'm least bit concerned about what happened before Quinn started convulsing right in front of me."

Santana crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, Quinn looked like hell before she became…" she gestured towards the affectionate Quinn. "This. Care to explain that part, too?"

"I'm in the dark as much as you are."

"This is making my head hurt," Brittany said.

Not as much as what Quinn experienced in that trunk, Rachel thought.

"Let's just retire for tonight. No matter what I tell you, you won't believe me anyway." Rachel patted Quinn's head absentmindedly. "It's better if I show you tomorrow."

Santana's features went solemn. "You better not disappoint us then, Berry."

* * *

><p>After being they were dropped off by Santana and Brittany with the usual wink from the former and an enthusiastic wave from the latter, Rachel went her ways inside her house with Quinn following her with the usual blind obedience.<p>

Rachel gritted her teeth to fight back a yawn and glanced over at the kitchen, shaking her head after a few beats before dragging her feet up the stairs. Simply too defeated as of tonight, Rachel ignored the fact that Quinn was following up to her bedroom. As they reached the bedroom door, Rachel paused while grasping the doorknob.

Straightening her clothes with her free hand, she then looked at Quinn. "You want to stay over?"

Quinn quickly nodded her head.

Rachel bit her lip, thinking over her options as she rubbed Quinn's head. Far from a bad host, she definitely didn't want Quinn to sleep on the floor, no matter how appropriate she appeared to be to curl up on their carpet. And if she did escort her to the guest bedroom, she was rather certain Quinn would somehow sneak into her bedroom in the middle of the night.

Rachel smiled as Quinn purred when she slid her fingers down to her right cheek, her thumb caressing the soft expanse of skin. If this were some sort of personality disorder, this was definitely a side of Quinn she didn't think she had, or at least frankly speaking, didn't know she had. Leaving out the possessiveness and the apparent absence of the superego, she sort of liked this Quinn. But it wasn't really Quinn, if that made sense. Nothing made sense, Rachel perused, but at the same it sort of did.

"Okay, you can sleep here with me. But no kisses or anything of that sort," Rachel said. "Got it?"

Quinn pouted but nodded again, this time much more slowly. Rachel fought back another smile. "Yes" wasn't in her vocabulary at all. She hesitated, shifting her weight from her heels to her toes before finally opening the door and leading them inside.

* * *

><p>"What's taking her so long?" Dork Quinn asked, almost whining. She was currently nursing her head with an ice pack.<p>

"Relax," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said. "It'll be your time soon. Just let that brute of a blond have her moment."

Serial Killer Quinn stared into space, twirling her knife between her index and middle finger. Something wasn't quite right.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You're clearly distracted."

"Just rather surprised about what happened earlier."

"Oh?" she took a drag. "Well, it's gone now. And I think you should relax, too. If there's one thing I've learned from my world, it's that you try to enjoy the free time when you're not, well, being chased by the undead."

"What were you doing, then?" Dork Quinn asked, immediately regretting it as soon as Zombie Apocalypse Quinn winked at her.

"Fucking Rachel's brains out, of course. No pun intended."

"Well, in my world," Serial Killer Quinn said, before turning around to look at Zombie Apocalypse Quinn. "I just make sure I kill anyone and anything that tries to get in between Rachel and I."

"You're not as hard to read as you think you are." Zombie Apocalypse Quinn smirked. "You think something triggered the headaches."

"During her time with Rachel, I would assume so," she said.

"And you want to stop it."

"Of course," Serial Killer Quinn said. "I want her. No one else can, or will have her."

* * *

><p>Rachel really did want to think everything through, she really did, but with this Quinn around, trying to seduce her—in her own eccentric way—in her bedroom no less, she was too busy gaping on the right side of her bed when all of a sudden Quinn was in the process of stripping every article of clothing she had on.<p>

"Jesus, Quinn." Rachel covered her eyes, finally realizing what she was doing. "At least leave the underwear on?"

Quinn appeared to have complied when she stopped.

"Thank you."

Quinn crawled underneath the duvet and then stretched, yawning as she did so.

"Well, uhm," Rachel said, pausing. "Goodnight, Quinn."

Once she settled in her bed, she reached over to her bedside lamp and turned it off. A soft "mm" was all Rachel heard before Quinn's arm encircled her waist, pulling her into her warm body.

Rachel swallowed, feeling skin against the small of her back where her pajama shirt rode up. It felt like she was inside Santana's trunk all over again.

"Quinn, could you—"

"No. Warm."

"Could you at least get your hand off inside my shirt?"

"No."

Another sigh. No use at all. "Okay."

A kiss on Rachel's temple. "I love you."

Rachel froze in place as she gripped her pillow, knuckles turning ghost-white. She swore her heart stopped, skin crawled, and hair stood on end.

* * *

><p>Lion Quinn's ear twitched. Without disturbing Rachel in her slumber, Lion Quinn peeked over Rachel's silhouette and proceeded to scowl at the intruder.<p>

Perched on the tree branch near Rachel's window, Serial Killer Quinn's eyes fixated on the sight, jaw hardening by the second.

What exactly happened, Serial Killer Quinn began to wonder.

"Let's go. It's getting late. We wouldn't want anyone seeing us," Zombie Apocalypse Quinn said as she straddled her motorcycle.

"…Okay."

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn studied Serial Killer Quinn's reaction after she had climbed down with ease.

"Hey."

"What?" Serial Killer Quinn asked without eye contact.

Zombie Apocalypse Quinn leaned against the cool steel of the handlebars, suddenly interested on watching the other doing a pat-down on her skirt before her sight migrated to the feet moving towards her.

"You know, I won't hesitate on killing you if you ever did something. Even if there were consequences for it."

Serial Killer Quinn blinked slowly and then smiled. "I know."

She stared at her in silence, their gazes unbroken. And then there was a small _click_, igniting the motor.

"Right. Get on."

* * *

><p>Rachel awoke with a start, five minutes before her alarm was set to wake her up for her daily elliptical routine. The first thing she noticed was the empty space Quinn had been sleeping on, leaving only her body's impression. The second thing she noticed was the open letting the cool breeze in.<p>

"Quinn?"

No answer.

A furrow formed between her eyebrows as she tried to put two and two together, only to come up with a conclusion that Quinn might have went through the window while she was asleep. She dragged her body on all fours to the edge of the bed, the side where Quinn was sleeping, and snuck a look on the floor. No clothes on the floor.

Rachel slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, her legs underneath her thighs while she rested on her heels. Considering all the things that had happened, this was a rather anticlimactic.

As much as she hated to openly admit it to the Quinns, she liked being the center of their attention. She liked the fact that she wasn't getting bullied, that there was one less flak for dating Finn to ignore. More importantly, she liked the fact that she actually felt… loved. But she wanted Quinn back. The Quinn Fabray, who hated her so much. And she had _had_ her back.

Why? And more importantly, how?

Rachel's shuffled in her bed, hugging her knees as she propped her chin on them. She usually found it easy to find answers to such complex questions, but in her defense, this was another league of its own. After the kiss—

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Rachel's palm slammed the alarm.

Wait.

After the kiss?

"No. Quinn was there with me during the kiss, right there," Rachel said out loud. "So that means…"

Santana and Brittany should never know about this.

Rachel hefted herself off the bed and headed towards her window. She gripped the windowsill as she peeked her head out of the opening. Sighing, she stepped back, reached up, and then pulled the window sill down.

She knew she had to kiss her again.

* * *

><p>With the house key in hand, Rachel locked the entrance door with a quick flick of the wrist.<p>

"Look who finally came out of the love nest."

Turning around to where the voice originated, Rachel threw a black look at the vehicle parked in front of the porch. She eyed the trunk and internally shuddered at the thoughts suddenly inundating back to her.

Brittany waved at her. "Hi, Rachel!"

Santana appeared bored, her arm looping around the back of Brittany's seat. "A promise is a promise, Berry."

"I can't," Rachel said, walking towards them all the while rearranging the strap of her bag on her right shoulder and jumbling her books. Quite a multitasker, she was.

"Wait, what?" Santana leaned forward to the Brittany's side of the window. "What do you mean you lied?"

Rachel didn't even have to stoop down to see Santana gaping at her. "I lied. Quinn's just being herself on being not herself."

"And _you're_ not far from doing a total cop-out 'Quinn' move," Santana said. "you're doing a complete one-eighty."

"Well." Rachel stood taller. "I take what I said last night back."

"Hold up, hold up," Santana said, unbuckling her seatbelt before getting out of her car. "so everything you said, as insane as it was, was a lie? That I was right all along?"

"Correct."

"So you're saying I'm wrong all along, too?" Brittany asked, looking up at Rachel.

"Correct."

"Uh-huh," Santana said, drawling the last syllable out longer than it was deemed necessary. She leaned on roof the car. "Brittany, get her."

"Got it!"

"Wait—no—I—" Rachel said, stuttering as she kicked and pedalled in mid-air after Brittany somehow got a hold of her by the waist, arms with it. "Jesus, what is Ms. Sylvester putting in those shakes?"

Brittany shrugged in response.

"Look, do you want to get back in the trunk again or do you, at least for once, decide to cooperate?" Santana asked. "No one's gonna mack on you this time, I assure you."

"Fine! Fine!" Rachel blew out her bangs, wincing when Brittany's grip tightened. "Just put me down, please? I've had more than enough of being held against my will."

Once Brittany let go, Rachel rubbed her arms. "Thank you."

"Well then, get in, Hobbit. Into Mordor we go."

* * *

><p>"Why do you believe me all of a sudden?" Rachel asked, breaking the pregnant silence within the vehicle.<p>

"Huh?"

"Last night you said I was on crack, and now," Rachel said, pausing. "Now you believe me?"

"What's your point?" Santana asked, looking through the rear view mirror.

Rachel crossed her arms. "My point is, you're also not far from doing a, as what you cleverly called, 'Quinn' move."

"I convinced her," Brittany said.

"You did?" Rachel's eyebrows shot up, making herself more comfortable in the backseat before she leaned forward along with her right hand on Brittany's seat. "How?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Santana said.

Rachel contemplated for a few beats before the context finally set in. She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms once again. "Never mind."

"Stop being so annoyingly nitpicky on every detail," Santana said. "Rather than focus on why I believe you, focus on proving it to us that you're not crazy and we're not…" Santana glanced at Brittany, who was busy playing with air-conditioning vent's dial. "…wrong for trusting you."

Rachel frowned at the pause, but decided to take Santana's advice to heart. For now.

"Right." Rachel crossed her left leg over her thigh. "Be prepared then."

* * *

><p>"Why are we parked all the way here?" Rachel asked, her hand gripping the door handle as she scanned the neighborhood.<p>

"So we don't get caught stalking your girlfriend," Santana said after rolling her eyes. "For being so anally retentive, you seem to lack common sense sometimes."

"She's not my girlfriend."

Santana smirked. "And that's not a hickey."

"Guys, please?"

Santana turned off the car. "Okay, okay. I'll be good. For now."

* * *

><p>"Holy shit on a stick."<p>

"How eloquent of you," Rachel said.

"You weren't kidding, though." This was Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury all over again, except way more than they bargained for.

"San, these bushes are hurting my face."

"Please, you have to keep this a secret or else the whole school's going to think I'm insane."

"I know, I know." Santana did some sort of patting motion in the air. "Now, shush."

"Can we go now?"

Rachel didn't know what she was actually getting out of all of this by telling Santana and Brittany. There was nothing to gain except for the confirmation that she wasn't delusional and that this wasn't some sick dream her subconscious concocted from the stress of the impending competitions, graduation, and song compositions. It was either that or she just recruited two cheerleaders who were going to make this into one big circus and then making this even more complicated than it already was.

"Rachel? You said there were four, right?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah."

"I only see three. Where's the other Quinn?"

Santana coughed as she waved away the offensive trail of smoke right above them.

"Your choice of cigarettes are shit, you know that?"

"I think you should leave," Quinn said, dropping the cigarette stick and putting it out with the sole of her boot rubbing against the pavement. "Rachel's welcome, though."

Rachel stood up. Her legs were starting to cramp anyway. Before she could even say anything, Brittany leaned over to Rachel with her hands clasped behind her.

"Good luck. Come on, San."

Santana let Brittany drag her by the forearm with little to no resistance except for the slightest head tilt and a squint. Brittany simply shook her head and pursed her lips. Rachel barely picked up the almost telepathic exchange between the two in her periphery, keeping at least virtually all her attention to the smirking Quinn, who was in turn more interested at her.

"Whipped, as always," Quinn said under her breath as she scuffed towards Rachel, stopping short just as the shrub hindered her from going any further into the latter's personal space. "so, are you planning to stalk us 'til she comes back?"

Rachel exhaled rather too heavily for her taste and shifted her weight. "I don't know."

"Ah."

Rachel shifted her weight again, quickly looking up and then back to her. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

Rachel shifted for the third time. "Yeah."

"Don't worry. She's in the shower." Quinn crossed her arms. "She may be a sick sadist with an obsession, but she's not a homing device."

Rachel's shoulders relaxed. "Oh."

"Do you need a ride?"

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head. Quinn frowned and Rachel immediately held her arms up. No way was she going to be manhandled (womanhandled?) again. "It's—it's not what you think. It's…" Rachel sighed. Might as well tell the truth. "I'm already late."

Quinn nodded. "Do you want to go somewhere then? I'm guessing you want answers."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. Why didn't she think of that?

Quinn let out a soft chuckle. "For someone who's so headstrong, you can be really naïve sometimes."

"I never thought you'd cooperate."

She shrugged. "Well, one is illiterate, one is completely oblivious, and the other one… well, you already know how she is."

"Right."

* * *

><p>Rachel's sudden realization of her hatred towards Breadstix and the perpetual smell of their subpar breadsticks dawned on her as she watched Quinn munching on the carb-filled, dry pieces of dough. Their hubris towards the bread was almost unconsciously making her jaw tighten.<p>

"It's weird," Quinn said as she looked up, holding the fork upright with her index finger. "That you trust me."

Rachel's chin rested on her chest, her palms gliding back and forth on her skirt. "I'm just lost."

"How so?"

"With Finn," Rachel said. She licked her lips. "With you."

"I don't blame you," Quinn said, holding back a scoff. "I mean, with everything that's been happening. All the shit."

"Yeah." Rachel made an effort by filling the absence of eye contact with an unnecessary reply to break the silence.

"Where do I start," Quinn said, almost sighing the words out. "I guess, to be honest, I don't really have 'answers' per se." She dropped the utensil as she leaned closer, compelling Rachel to finally look up. "Just observations."

"If it's all we have…"

Quinn smiled. "You're really cute when you're desperate."

Rachel grimaced. "I'm so through with you and your obnoxious, blatant flirting."

"Just me or…?"

"You and the other Quinns. Who are also you. Just. Ugh!" Rachel was so ready to throw a fit, but the pairs of eyes within the establishment seemed to have stifled the urge to do so. She cleared her throat and sat back down. "You're so incorrigible and insufferable," Rachel said under her breath. "And just when I thought you were on my side for once, you do this. And yes, I mean _all_ of you." Rachel's fingers ran through her hair and stared at the awful brown paint coat of the partition wall. "I just want Quinn back. _My_ Quinn back."

Quinn's expression was neutral, gauging whether another comment on how turned on she was with Rachel's anger was apropos at the moment. She could blame being in an apocalyptic world with _her_ Rachel for that. The desperate, end-of-the-world sex did things to her. She wondered if this Rachel bit as hard—

"Look," Rachel said. "Just leave. I'd rather do this alone if you're here to play with my feelings. I'm already confused enough as it is, and I just want to focus on Quinn."

There was silence after that, the kind where Rachel almost wanted to cringe, as if steeling herself for the inevitable rejection that was going to follow.

"Vertigo. Well, sort of."

"What?"

"All three of us had gotten this awful headache. We blacked out at the same time, I believe." Quinn leaned back, her right arm resting on the top of the couch. "We were in this trunk." Quinn smiled. "And we were kissing. I think the other two didn't know what was actually happening? They still think it was all some giant elaborate hallucination. I mean, I did too. But when you came to my house, I kind of had put two and two together, which is saying something 'cause I thought that mental patient of a blonde would've had an epiphany by now. But," she said, motioning a gesture with and left palm. "here we are."

"I don't know if any of that helped with your… quest of finding useless answers, but I hope my take on this will get you somewhere in the long run," she said, a smile forming once more. "And now I'm just taking a shot in the dark here, but I think you might want to try to kiss me again. See if it works." Quinn's smile slowly transitioned to a smirk. "I promise I'll be better than that brute."

Rachel opened her mouth to come up with some clever remark, but then decided against it. Quinn wasn't entirely wrong. Was it really okay to just be okay with all of this? How anticlimactic, Rachel thought, but for once, she reconsidered. For once, Quinn's proposition wasn't some over-complicated solution to a highly ridiculous situation – a situation she just barely scratched the surface on.

The relief that washed over her seemed to have put the conversation into a halt, to which Rachel was silently grateful for. She sighed once more and closed her eyes.

"We won't tell Finn," Quinn said, her lips forming once again into a grim line as if re-evaluating the current mood.

Their eyes finally met and Rachel subconsciously licked her lips. "Okay."

Quinn nodded slightly and stood up. "Come with me."

Rachel returned the gesture. Almost immediately, she stopped herself from leaving the booth. She raised an eyebrow towards Quinn.

"Aren't you going to pay?"

Quinn seemed to pause before laughing softly, almost to herself. She tossed the money on the table, which was enough to leave a tip for Sandy. "Sorry. Habits die hard."

* * *

><p>Rachel closed her eyes and did her breathing exercises, not unlike the ones she did before a competition.<p>

Well, at least tried to. If only she could actually breathe and was perfectly sober.

"If we're going for things under my 'most romantic places to kiss', the bathroom stall in a creepy gas station whilst drunk has to be my top three," Rachel said, her nose crinkling. Her words slurred, but she was still remotely conscious to know what was going on.

"You were the one who wanted to get drunk just before kissing me," Quinn said. "Which is hurting my ego right now, not gonna lie."

"It's just a precaution," Rachel said.

It was definitely not in her to spontaneously want to get drunk, but if she was going to go behind Finn's back and kiss Quinn of all people, she might as well have some liquid courage that she bought at the gas station with Quinn's fake ID in her system to have some justification that if anyone ever found out, she could excuse her actions as Quinn taking advantage of her while she wasn't in her right state of mind. No one would think she was cheating on Finn.

To which, it had been a sound judgment and alibi up until now, because no one was going to know no matter what considering that Quinn had brought her to some hole-in-the-wall place just miles outside of civilization.

Damn it, she forgot she was incredibly needy when she was drunk. And damn it, this Quinn's bad influence rubbed off on her almost instantly. And god damn it, she could have had acted drunk instead.

"But seriously, though? Here? Of all places you could take me, it _has_ to be somewhere that's bound to have a serial killer just waiting for us to come out, kidnap us, and chop our limbs while burying them in different locations of the country."

"You've been spending too much time with her. She's been giving you ideas."

Rachel crossed her arms, ignoring her comment. "Even, dare I say it, Santana and Brittany had more class than this."

"So you want it to be romantic?"

"Well, if I were going to be kissed by anyone, they would at least have the decency to take me somewhere where the place doesn't kill you in three minutes flat from merely inhaling and exhaling."

"You're cute."

"No, I'm angry and drunk."

"Why can't you be all three?"

"You're annoying. And absolutely unromantic. And anti-climactic."

"You said you don't want anyone to find out. This is the only place I can think of. You don't want Jew-Fro to blackmail you and end up giving him panties again, do you?"

"…Fine."

"Look at us, bantering like a couple."

"Can we just get this over with?"

"And you think I'm unromantic."

Another glare and contemporaneously, Quinn raised her hands up and added a smirk to go with it. That goddamn smirk.

She seriously wanted to wipe off that smug look right off her lips with a kiss.

Wait, what?

"Just kiss me already."

"Okay, okay. Way to set the mood," Quinn said, leaning in. Rachel looked up. Her body jolted at the slightest contact from Quinn's fingers brushing the bangs out of her face. "Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know you won't," Rachel said, her cheeks flushed redder than usual. "It's just weird… to wait? I guess?"

"Mm."

Quinn's forehead touched hers and Rachel's breath hitched. Quinn was warm—a contradistinction to the cold linoleum tile against her back and Rachel could feel her fingertips slowly glide up from the back of her right hand to her elbow.

Rachel was still and rigid as ever, trying to keep the eye contact with Quinn as the latter's hand finally took repose on the back of her neck, her thumb rubbing the tan skin.

"I know we shouldn't. We really shouldn't. This is wrong," Rachel said, pausing. As her senses dulled, Quinn's presence and touch heightened.

"We can stop," Quinn said. "Or if it makes you feel any better, think of it as a selfless act of bringing 'your Quinn' back. Or just blame it on the alcohol."

"Okay."

Quinn finally closed her eyes and leaned in towards Rachel's lips, her body flushed against hers.

Blame it on the alcohol. Just blame it on the alcohol, Rachel repeated in her head. This was what she planned in the first place. To blame it on the alcohol, to warrant her for kissing Quinn. That it wasn't just some repressed desire to make out with her for the sake of making out.

Just blame it on the alcohol.

But god, even with the aftertaste of cigarettes and the potent mix of god-knows-what-was-in-that-bottle, Quinn's tongue felt hot against her own.

Just before Rachel settled in and melted into the kiss, Quinn stepped back and left her with half-lidded eyes and a soft exhale from her parted mouth. The alcohol was in full swing.

"Well?"

Just blame everything on the alcohol.

"Again," Rachel said, whispering. As if on automatic, she fisted her black shirt and pulled her back in.

* * *

><p>Quinn was never someone who was easily surprised, but when she suddenly found herself pressed up against the wall, she might have underestimated how strong Rachel was and how Rachel could flip from zero to sixty in two seconds flat.<p>

Quinn could feel the urgency and desperation Rachel poured into the kiss. And it absolutely took her breath away.

"You clearly had too much to drink," Quinn said, moving as far as she could before Rachel found her lips once more.

"No, I'm fine. I just…" Rachel's words slowly trailed off against her mouth. "You just… turned on… got me so… I don't know…"

Rachel was worked up, so suddenly worked up to the point where she could feel her decorum being flushed down the gas station's toilet.

"I really don't want to take advantage of you," Quinn said, panting as Rachel's clinginess went to overdrive. Quinn's resolve into putting some space between them dissipated completely once Rachel beckoned her to sit down on the toilet cover, to which she obliged. Quite happily, in fact.

"Oh, fuck," Quinn said, moaning as she watched Rachel straddle her. It wasn't the most graceful Quinn had witnessed, but she was too turned on to even care one bit.

"What am I doing? We really shouldn't do this," Rachel said. Quinn was confident that the former was trying to talk herself out of it, so she decided against on replying.

Rachel's hands were on her like there was no tomorrow. They were sporadic, but enthusiastic nevertheless. Quinn couldn't help but feed off of Rachel's energy as she grabbed the latter by the neck and began to skim the flawless expanse with her teeth and tongue.

As Quinn's lips brushed against Rachel's collarbone, she did little to no work on pushing down Rachel's sweater to expose her left shoulder, to which she kissed and marked with great fervour. And when Rachel's hips arched against her, it simply made her shudder. Rachel threw her head back and moaned, her thighs tensing as Quinn's deft, calculating hands roamed.

* * *

><p>Instinct and honesty towards her feelings took control of Rachel for a while before it finally dawned on her.<p>

What was happening?

Or the more appropriate question was, what _wasn't_ happening?

"Quinn?" Rachel asked. Her left hand instinctively rested on the back of Quinn's head, a gesture of trying to regain control of the heated session. "Quinn?"

It took a few seconds before Quinn stopped her ministrations and finally looked up. The look of sheepishness didn't escape Rachel. "Sorry. I guess we got carried away."

"No, it's okay," Rachel said, thoughtful. She lowered her mouth to meet Quinn's and then, "nothing?"

Quinn's brow furrowed before it registered. She shook her head. "I'm sorry," Quinn said, before quickly adding, "please don't think that I've tricked you or anything like that. I genuinely thought it'd bring her back, too."

"No, it's okay." Rachel's index finger traced the outline of her bottom lip.

Feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, Quinn rested on Rachel's heaving chest. Rachel's arms encircled around her neck, dipping her head down and gave one last peck on the crown of her head.

"I think something's wrong," Rachel said, still mumbling out the words a bit.

A headache was coming on and she didn't know whether it was the sober thoughts creeping in or it was just the alcohol starting to make her dizzy. All she knew was that it wasn't the right place and time to think about her newfound dilemma between Finn and Quinn. Seriously, what the hell was in that drink?

Also, damn Santana again.

"I think something's wrong, too," Quinn said, her eyes fluttering closed.

A headache was also coming on and it was for an entirely different reason. She thought the whole situation was far from complex, but somehow, it didn't bring her back. What the hell was going on?

* * *

><p>"I hate to say this, but you're ruining my chances with Rachel," Serial Killer Quinn said, her head resting her on her knuckles as she watched Lion Quinn struggle in her restraints.<p>

Lion Quinn could only muster out a weak growl as to where Serial Killer Quinn's silhouette was sitting, which was behind a desk right in front of her. She was in the latter's corner of the room – heavily drugged and tied to a chair.

"I don't know what you did, although I'm pretty sure what happened was your doing," Serial Killer Quinn said. "or undoing. It really doesn't matter." Serial Killer Quinn crossed her leg over the other and leaned back on her chair. "But I'm sure what I injected in me stops whatever that was. Some sort of inhibiting agent, so to speak. Well, not that you understand any of it."

"You're out of your mind," Dork Quinn said, staggering just a few feet behind her. "You're ruining your chances with Rachel, too."

Serial Killer Quinn was also losing consciousness fast. "Maybe. But if I can't have her, you can't either."

"It's official. You're crazy."

Serial Killer Quinn laughed.

* * *

><p>Quinn's head became heavier and heavier by the second, as if her whole weight has shifted forward causing Rachel to lose her sense of equilibrium, or at least what's left of it. She was still drunk, after all. She was no Captain America.<p>

"Quinn?" Rachel gripped Quinn's shoulders, preventing them from falling off the water closet. "God, not again."

Quinn groaned, her face still against Rachel's chest. "Something's wrong, Rachel. I think she's trying to stop her from coming back."

"What? Who?"

"That psycho bitch," Quinn said. "I figured she'd find out sooner or later."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sure it's just temporary," Quinn said, smiling at Rachel's exasperated tone. "Let me just lay here for a bit."

"I'm sure you would prefer that," Rachel said, returning the smile. "But I'd like to regain my sense of smell, thank you very much."

Rachel could feel Quinn's shoulders shaking from laughter.

"Okay, okay," Quinn said. She nuzzled closer to Rachel, her arms wrapping around her waist. She sighed, a smile still plastered on her face regardless whether Rachel could see her or not. "I'm glad you're warming up to me."

Rachel hugged Quinn's head closer, closing her eyes as she did so.

"Let's… just not for today, okay?"

"…Okay."

"Thank you," Rachel said, removing herself from Quinn's lap. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? You look like you can barely move."

"I'll be fine. I think it's wearing off," Quinn said, her palms gripping the toilet tank lid. She slowly hoisted herself up. "I'm tougher than I look, you know. I come from a world where zombies are trying to kill you left and right remember?"

"Right, sorry," Rachel said. "But can I at least drive?"

Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "No offense, Rachel, but you can barely reach the kickstand. Plus you're still drunk."

Rachel frowned and crossed her arms. "That's preposterous. I'm not that short."

Quinn shrugged, pursing her lips to contain another smile that was threatening to appear. "I'm sure you aren't," Quinn said, before opening the bathroom stall and gestured Rachel. "After you."

Rachel's frown grew. "What does that supposed to mean?"

"What's what supposed to mean?"

"The 'I'm sure you aren't'."

"Hmm?"

"Don't play coy with me. You just said that two seconds ago."

"I don't recall ever saying that." Rachel stood there and Quinn sighed. "We can play this game all day long if you like in this bathroom until someone kills us and turns us into chopped liver or I can take you home where you can nurse your imminent hangover with your precious vegan cupcakes, safe and sound."

"...Fair point."

And with that, Rachel proceeded to make her way out of the bathroom, books and school bag in hand. Quinn could only shake her head, smiling at the sight.

* * *

><p>"Huh." Serial Killer Quinn tapped her knife against her lips. "I guess it didn't work as well as I hoped it would."<p>

"Easy for you to say," Dork Quinn said, kneading her temples with the sides of her head. She hoped that whatever this was was not on a daily basis. One time was more than enough.

Serial Killer Quinn laughed once more, ignoring the throbbing pain as she readied another sterilized needle to pierce through her skin.

Dork Quinn's face practically fell at the sight of Serial Killer Quinn with the syringe. "Please no."

Serial Killer Quinn's thumb pressed up against the plunger, the device's needle upright. She watched the clear liquid drip down, and then situated the tip on the inside of her elbow.

"You really don't have to do this."

* * *

><p>Rachel's nose silently thanked whoever was up there for the clean, glorious air as they sped through the highway. It was so grateful in fact that Rachel didn't even mind that Quinn appeared to have a death wish on how she was veering left and right past shouts and car honks at one hundred and twenty miles per hour.<p>

The minutes on the road seemed to blur along with the lights that Rachel was caught off guard once they reached the Berry driveway. The afternoon wind had felt good against the heat of her own skin from the alcohol though, as it also had tried to distract her from the constant worry and anxiety that had been keeping her off-kilter recently.

Once they were both at the doorstep, Rachel paused with her left hand clutching the knob of the door. Quinn simply observed Rachel's back on her. It was déjà vu all over again.

"Thanks," Rachel said. "For today, I mean."

"It's no problem," Quinn said, shifting her weight. "I'm just sorry it didn't go as we planned."

Rachel turned around but didn't let go of the knob, her hands behind her as she leaned against the door. "It's okay. I know you're genuinely trying to help me."

Quinn's eyes trailed down to Rachel's lips. Moving towards her, Quinn said, "I'm glad you trust me."

Rachel offered no resistance when Quinn leaned down and kissed her. The former was the first one to break the contact, immediately looking down at her shoes.

Quinn's face softened when Rachel looked back to meet eye contact. Quinn held a hand up to stop her from saying anything.

"It's my turn to say it's okay," Quinn said. "We're confusing you and I apologize. I know we come off as really abrasive but I hope you know that we do mean well. Hell, even I speak for that psychopath living with me."

"…Thank you."

"You're—"

And then Quinn fell on her knees.


	4. Part IV

Author's Note: I should apologize that I can't reply to every review. I really do hope you guys understand. But just know that your reviews are absolutely appreciated and they truly mean the world to me. I'm being repetitive, but I can't thank you all enough for sticking by this story regardless of how bad I am at updating this. On another note, a big thank you to a dear friend who has tried guiding my hopeless grammar and writing style. Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Of Inconsistencies and Continuities<p>

Part IV

* * *

><p>Rachel thought that she would catch a break, but no. The universe probably wanted her dead. Okay, maybe that was exaggeration on her part but with that kidnapping fiasco with Santana and Brittany and maybe award her with a hangover, all courtesy of a two dollar bottle she got from a nondescript gas station yesterday.<p>

Quinn was next to her, her features soft and peaceful. Her blonde tresses slid gently before they took rest right in front of her closed eyes. Quinn stirred ever so slightly, but remained sound asleep. Rachel's expression thawed; her stubborn façade slowly mitigating. Any complaints immediately erased when she raised her right hand up and gently swept Quinn's hair out of her face.

"Quinn," Rachel whispered. She was just relieved the girl was back. She didn't know how, but she was. And while not entirely as she had hoped, Quinn was back nonetheless.

Rachel got out of bed and grabbed her sweater and phone, intent on grabbing a quick cup of coffee from the kitchen before making an effort to wake a seemingly comatose Quinn. The chronic headaches were getting to her and she would rather not have Quinn watch her do a re-enactment of what happened yesterday and think she was mocking her.

The brunette quickly made her way downstairs to the coffee maker on kitchen counter, already furiously grinding away beans from its 6:00 a.m. timer as always. Rachel massaged her temples with her forefingers, sighing as she did so. She had barely slept while watching for any signs of movement or consciousness from Quinn and well, and it had been well past 3:00 a.m. before she was drifted to sleep despite her best efforts.

With her back against the kitchen island, Rachel crossed her arms and blankly stared at the coffee drip. She inhaled the rich aroma, her shoulders relaxing, only to tense again when her phone began to vibrate impatiently on the granite countertop.

A smiling Finn appeared on the screen. Rachel's fingers tapped against the case of her phone, her attention flickering back and forth between the "Answer" and "Decline" buttons on the touchscreen.

"Ugh," Rachel said, forehead softly collided on the front of the phone as her eyes shut. She waited for it to stop vibrating. The screen mercifully went dark and she finally released the breath she didn't know she was holding.

The coffee maker let out a screech, pulling Rachel out of her thoughts as she hastily grasped the handle of the pot with her free hand and detached it from its base.

"Of all people you have to be infatuated with, it just has to be Quinn," Rachel said, mumbling to herself as she put her phone down on the counter. Silently berating herself, she stomped back to the machine, reattached the pot, and then glared at the cupboards before unpausing her monologue. "and just when you're in a stable relationship with the guy you've been mooning for the longest time, you allow yourself to be swept off your feet by Quinn." Rachel paused. "Or Quinns." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"Stupid," Rachel said. "Just stupid."

On her tiptoes, she continued muttering as she reached for the cupboard's handle. Why did she have to be so charming? Why did she have to be so suave? Why did she have to be so considerate? Why was she everything Finn's not?

"Damn it!"

Back on her heels, she stomped her right foot with her arms right back on her sides as her fists tightly clenched. Too distracted in her thoughts, she barely registered the deliberate creaking noises at the staircase.

Still in a black shirt and shorts that brought back unwanted Skank memories, Quinn watched Rachel flail in the kitchen right at the last few stair steps. She held back a smile as she observed Rachel begrudgingly bringing a stepping stool her fathers must have brought especially for her right in front of her perennial nemesis. Quinn hesitated going any further, afraid of breaking one of Rachel's signature spiels not unlike the ones she usually did during glee club—her speaking, and no one listening except for an apparently bored Quinn. Well, maybe not quite similar, Quinn abjured. She wasn't hiding behind a book right now, but still, the furtiveness of it all was indistinguishable and uncanny.

Headaches now gone, Quinn felt like there was some sort of time gap between now and then. She had absolutely no memory at all.

Judging by her clothes and Rachel's on-going tirade, she was going to ask her about it. Not that she had much of a choice anyways, but the idea of approaching the subject seemed out of place right now, and she didn't want to potentially offend Rachel that she actually had no clue as to why she slept over.

Did they decide to be best friends overnight and had another Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza? Did they party too hard and just so happen to had gotten drugged? All she could remember was that pounding headache she had the last time they had dodgeball and that her thoughts towards Rachel had gotten extremely convoluted and incongruous.

Quinn finally pushed herself off against the stair handrail and trudged her way to Rachel, whose arm was still outstretched to grasp the elusive handle.

She didn't know she was fixating on Rachel's exposed indents of her back until she collided against nondescript Tupperware sitting idly on the breakfast bar, toppling them over and tripping Rachel from the sound in the process.

"Shit," Quinn said, her cheerleading reflexes kicked into high gear as she ran over to Rachel, practically saving her from a broken spine and fractured ankle. It looked like the scene came straight out of a cheesy, trite romantic movie – with Quinn literally dipping Rachel.

Rachel blinked, gaping at her. "I—uh, thanks."

"Uh, yeah," Quinn said.

Gradually, the position became uncomfortable and Rachel was getting heavier and heavier by the second. Quinn blinked back, clearing her throat as she pulled Rachel upright.

They stood there, avoiding each other's gazes. Rachel was suddenly too busy deciding as to whether which side she preferred to shift her weight on. Quinn subconsciously rubbed her thumb against her fingers, as if trying to remember how Rachel's back felt against her palm.

Quinn eventually looked up, back at Rachel, and then back up at the cupboard. She opened the cabinet with ease and reached over to what she could only assume was a smooth handle of a mug.

"Is this—" Quinn raised an eyebrow at the bedazzled gold star mug. "—what you wanted?"

Rachel's cheeks flushed, but accepted the mug Quinn offered to her. "Thanks, Quinn."

Another pause.

"Oh!" Rachel was wide-eyed. "I haven't offered you anything. Unfortunately, all I have right now is coffee? God, I'm sorry for being such a bad host. Do you want coffee?" Rachel asked, talking a little too hastily as she tried again to acquire another mug. Rachel turned to her and looked as to what Quinn could only describe as sheepish.

"Let me get that," Quinn said, before getting another cup out of the cabinet. This time it was a generic white mug. She assumed it was one of her dads'.

"Did you sleep well?" Rachel asked. With the two mugs in hand, she went over to the forgotten coffee maker.

"Yeah," Quinn said, making herself useful by scooping up the scattered Tupperware she tumbled over just moments ago and putting them back to where she remembered they were placed.

"Yeah?" Rachel poured the contents into each mug.

"Yeah."

Rachel offered her the coffee and Quinn welcomed the heat emanating from the ceramic as they both sat beside each other by the bar.

They both paused as they sipped the bitter liquid.

"So, Sectionals," Rachel said as she grabbed the sugar dispenser and placed it in front of Quinn.

Quinn put a generous heaped tablespoon of sugar, took another thoughtful sip, and nodded to herself. "Right. Sectionals."

"Any song choices?"

"No," Quinn said.

"Right."

Rachel pursed her lips and tapped her palms on the surface without a conscious rhythm. She glanced at Quinn, whose features were unreadable as always. Rachel's stare slowly contorted into a piercing look.

"So are we just not gonna talk about it? Pretend that nothing has happened at all?"

"What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Oh my god, you are."

"What's going on, Rachel?"

"About what happened, about what's been happening!"

"Rachel, calm down," Quinn said, putting the mug down and then holding Rachel by the shoulders. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

Rachel's jaw slackened. "Wait, you have absolutely no idea? No idea what's going on? Absolutely no idea whatsoever?"

"Changing the sentences around more than once doesn't magically change my answer to 'yes', Rachel."

"I just thought that maybe you… and I…"

"What?"

Rachel reeled back a bit – okay, maybe she attacked her just a tad, but the fact of the matter was that Rachel had actually thought that Quinn had suffered something not unlike anaesthetic awareness when she wasn't quite her. Or quite them. And again, whatever.

Screw it.

"So here you are, in my house, slept in my bed, all cozy and everything, drinking my coffee, acting like everything's normal while I've been through hell with you for the past few days," Rachel said. "and all I get is a sarcastic and clueless response?"

"Well, if you put it that way," Quinn said. She just _knew_ she would offend Rachel. Quinn ran a hand through her hair and then proceeded to rub her eye against her knuckles.

God, she was so adorably infuriating and unbearable.

"It's not like I'm doing this on purpose," Quinn said as she raised one arm and dropped it on the table with a _thud_.

"You poisoned Finn."

"I did?"

"And you bit Santana."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "I did what?"

"And you had this motorcycle. And guns."

Quinn's brow furrowed further. "What?"

"And you kissed me," Rachel said. She tilted her head down to her chest. "And we almost did… stuff in a bathroom stall."

Quinn's eyes widened, her cheeks reddening by the second. "We did?"

"And I didn't answer his call. I'm such a bad girlfriend." Rachel grabbed her phone. "And we kissed! I have to fix this—"

"What are you—"

"God, and I thought you were—and I was so—"

Quinn's left forefinger and thumb held the bridge of her nose. No one could break Rachel out of an imminent speech.

"For the love of—listen to me," Quinn said, snatching the mobile device from Rachel's hands.

"Hey!"

"I have no idea as to what you're trying to 'fix' your relationship with Finn when he doesn't even know anything. We could make out in front of that big lug and he'd still think we're just close friends. Plus," Quinn said. "You and I need to talk about this thing you're going off on about, 'cause I sure as hell want to know what else I did."

Rachel huffed.

"Fine," she said. "And thank you for using the apropos pronouns."

"Rachel, focus," Quinn said.

"At least I don't have to deal with four Quinns anymore," she said, sighing. "at least I hope so."

"Wait." Quinn leaned forward. "What did you just say?"

"You were literally four people."

Quinn's expression was blank before she laughed. "That's insane."

"Please," Rachel said. As if she didn't hear that enough from Santana.

"As if I didn't hear that enough from Santana." Rachel crossed her arms. "I was violated, manipulated, and harassed by you. All four of you. And I still have this baffling crush on you," Rachel said the last part under her breath – just out of Quinn's earshot – as she looked away.

"I didn't catch the last part."

"Nothing," Rachel said. "The point is, do I seem to be someone who immerse themselves in drollery?" she then immediately added, "and if you're wondering, no, I'm not on drugs."

Quinn frowned. She leaned back again as she also crossed her arms, mimicking Rachel. "Do you at least have proof, then?"

"Is this—" Rachel pulled down her sweater to reveal an alarming number of bite marks and hickeys on her concealer-free skin. "—proof enough?"

Quinn's eyebrows shot up. "Did I… do that?"

"No," Rachel said.

"Oh."

"I was joking," Rachel said, monotone. "Of course you did this."

"You just said that you don't joke."

With pursed lips, Rachel raised one finger and closed her eyes.

"It's—" a quick exhale and then she opened her eyes, her finger back to poking the marks for extra effect. "You did this. And you made it your absolute mission to make sure that I know how you truly feel about me."

Quinn suddenly laughed.

"Feelings. Towards you."

"I—Yes."

Quinn impulsively found the ceiling much more interesting than this conversation right now. She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Berry."

Rachel blinked. "You're actually accusing me of lying?"

"Please," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Try as you might, you're not as innocent and good as you like to think you are."

Rachel swallowed.

Quinn crossed her arms. Rachel eventually reached over to place her right hand on Quinn's stiff forearm.

"Quinn," Rachel said, her voice matching her gentle expression. "You don't have to deny it. It's okay.".

"I don't have to deny anything," Quinn said, her nails digging into her skin.

"Quinn."

"Don't." Quinn rebuffed, swatting Rachel's hand away and then got off the stool. "You're clearly making things up, Berry. The pressure of Sectionals is getting to you."

Rachel's throat clenched. "I thought we're already past this."

"We aren't past anything," Quinn said, jaw tightening by the second.

Rachel gnawed her bottom lip, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. Inhaling sharply, her features hardened as she looked at Quinn straight in the eye.

"Fine," Rachel said. "I believe you can see yourself to the door. Your shoes and bag are right at the entrance."

She nodded. "Thanks for having me."

Quinn put on her shoes and made her way to the door. Once opening it, Quinn immediately glowered.

"Oh, hey! I was just about to knock."

That goofy smile wasn't getting him anywhere in life. "Finn."

"Is Rachel in? She didn't answer my call and I was wondering if she needed a ride—"

Quinn rolled her eyes and bumped right into him. Finn had to catch himself from staggering backwards from the force.

With her back on him, she raised her arm, waving. "Bye."

Finn scratched the back of his head, watching Quinn's retreating figure. "I—uh, bye?"

With the door ajar, he then peeked into the household. Not a person in sight. "Rachel?"

Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her wrists and sniffled. "I'm in the kitchen. But don't come in okay?"

"Okay." Finn nodded to particularly no one. "I mean, I know I got here a little too early, but… is this a bad time?"

"No," Rachel said, rummaging for excuses. "I'm just not ready yet. Could you just wait for me outside?"

"Oh, okay."

"Thanks, Finn."

Hearing the door close, Rachel breathed a sigh, rested her head on the countertop, and buried her face into her arms. She needed to lay there for a few minutes before showering.

What a way to start her day.

* * *

><p>After being greeted by a drunken Judy, she went upstairs and locked herself in her room. Quinn threw her bag on the floor and plopped down on her bed.<p>

She really didn't want to go to school today. The idea of facing Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson together was making her nauseous and even more so when Rachel had the audacity to accuse her that she, Quinn Fabray, was in love with her. And her so-called evidence was a ridiculous story to boot.

Four Quinns. Sure. She inwardly scoffed at it. She sure had some wild imagination, but Quinn expected no less from the self-centred Rachel Berry, thinking everyone just wanted to worship the ground she walked on whenever someone was nice to her, and once she thought they didn't, which was in the first place, Rachel's desperation would get the better of her.

Quinn peered to the side where her table clock sat. She had barely fifteen minutes to get ready.

"God, I hate her," Quinn said, before sighing to herself.

No, she didn't. Quinn resigned to the fact that they already settled that untruth a long time ago, but she would have to be the last person on earth into admitting that deep inside, there was a semblance of genuine fondness towards Rachel, but a confession from her part would probably be the death to her.

Bottling up feelings, shoving them, and not acknowledging they were there in first place was her thing after all. Avoiding confrontation was her priority right now, so finding answers—rational answers—to the inexplicable time lapse on her part was out of the question. It was better that way anyway, she thought. Especially with Rachel.

* * *

><p>"Hey there, Squishy Tits," Santana said. "Finally back from the day-care center?"<p>

"Nice to see you, too, Santana," Finn said, before settling her attention to Rachel. "I'll see you later."

Rachel half-smiled. "Yeah."

With another dopey smile, Finn leaned down and kissed Rachel on the cheek. While Santana didn't even hold back a grimace, Rachel flinched from the affection, but made a conscious effort on not pulling away. Once he was gone, Rachel's expression fell.

"And what's up with you, Dwarf?" Santana asked. "The orgy yesterday with the four Quinns didn't go as well as you planned? Or are you all mopey 'cause you don't get to mack on the Quinns anymore since that empty-headed infant is back crawling and dribbling around the school?"

"Not now, Santana. I don't have time for a game of ripostes with you," Rachel said, silently wishing she had just told Finn that she was sick. She would have been in bed right now, alone and writing songs with her favourite vegan hot chocolate right beside her.

"Quinn's back," Brittany said, pointing at a busy Quinn who was just a few set of lockers away from them rearranging her books.

Santana looked over Rachel's shoulder. "Huh. That's weird."

"No," Rachel said, murmuring as Quinn walked right past them without as much as a passing glance. "More like, we're back to normal. Just as it should be, I guess."

"Back to her repressed bitchy self, I see," Santana said, scowling.

"You're sad," Brittany said, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"Of course I am," Rachel said. "I'm starting to despise Finn's presence and I'm horribly smitten by Quinn. And just when I'm actually starting to feel okay with liking her, she's back to being so unresponsive to everything."

Rachel exhaled slowly. "And just when I was actually thinking of breaking up with Finn for her. Now all of it seems ludicrous and ineffable," she said. "God, I'm so awful."

"Oh, will you stop with the pity party already? You're no better than Queen Pressed Lemon herself not getting off that fucking high horse of hers," Santana said.

"I just want this day to be over with," Rachel said, clutching her books tighter to her chest.

"I have a feeling anything's not over, though," Brittany said. "So don't give up, okay?"

"I know," Rachel said. "It's just there's Finn and Quinn, and then there's Finn and Quinns. I mean am I interpreting this whole thing wrong? Was it just those four particular people who liked me but not Quinn?"

Brittany shook her head. "No. Quinn likes you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Usually there's always an explanation after that, Brittany."

Brittany shrugged. "I don't have anything. Sorry. But why can't it be that simple, though?"

Rachel sighed. "Of course."

"Well, at least you actually admit you're actually gay for her," Santana said.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Quinn's ignoring me."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "And did that ever stop you before?"

"Well, no."

"Exactly. So why stop now?"

* * *

><p>It was unlike Rachel to be so out of tune during glee club, both literally and figuratively. Although she didn't expect Quinn to have this effect on her either. With Quinn's face well-hidden behind <em>Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret<em>, Rachel kept her within her range as she sang and accounted any movement that would give her insight that at least Quinn wasn't totally disregarding her existence.

But as always, Quinn was unreadable, Rachel thought. Pun unintended.

A belted note and a rather bored and obligated applause later, Rachel stood frozen in front of the other members, duly disappointed when Quinn didn't even bother putting the book down.

And it went like that day after day, organically becoming a routine for both of them – Quinn completely forgetting that Rachel was an actual, sentient member of the group with the latter getting more and more irked as she continued to watch her. With Rachel's uncharacteristic silent hostility and Quinn's characteristic passive-aggressive behaviour, even Santana, who had no reason to involve herself except for Brittany's _flexible_ ways of persuasion, was becoming squeamish.

So when Mr. Schuester was in a middle of a pep talk that barely brought any pep, Santana suddenly stood up.

"Alright," Santana said. "That. Is. It."

"And here we go," Mr. Schuester said, tossing his whiteboard marker and eraser on the piano. He proceeded to sit down beside Brad, his chin resting on his palm.

Brad simply pitied him – if anyone were to ask him, which no one ever did, he was surprised it took so long for them to butt in. But hey, he was only there to magically know every song without asking the kids what they were going to sing.

"Could you just do us all a favour and just stop acting like a couple of two year olds?" Santana asked.

Quinn and Rachel didn't seem to hear her.

"Hey!"

Nothing.

"Fucking shit—" Santana didn't even want to finish. She balled her fists and looked over to Kurt and Blaine. "Gay one, Gay two. Help me out."

Blaine and Kurt shook their heads slowly, wide-eyed.

"Nope," they both said, mouthing the word.

And as much as Kurt wanted to play matchmaker again, Quinn was scaring him.

Tina was ready. Yes, it was finally her time to shine. But when Mike grabbed her forearm when she began to stand, he simply closed his eyes and shook his head at her direction.

Damn it.

Santana looked over to Puck, and then smacked him on the arm.

"Hey!" Puck said. "Why do you ladies keep harassing me?"

"Stop drooling and talk to them."

"Hell no. Do you see them right now?"

Santana moved closer, towering over him even with their height difference. "Don't make me rip that stupid Mohawk right off of your head."

"Okay! Okay!" Puck raised his hands up. "God."

Santana tapped her foot as Puck rearranged himself in his seat.

"Anytime now."

"Rachel?"

Puck could see Rachel's jaw clench. Nope, no way.

"Uh, hey, Quinn?"

Quinn turned the page louder than usual.

Puck cowered. "Never mind."

Santana grumbled under her breath and then turned to Mercedes, who raised her index finger up.

"Don't even think about it."

"Maybe I could—"

Tina couldn't even finish.

"Guess I just _have_ to do everything around here," Santana said.

Finn blinked. "What's going on? Did I miss something?"

Santana crossed her arms, shifting her weight as she stared at the back of Quinn's head. "You did. Q here and the Hobbit have been doing… extracurricular activities behind your back."

Quinn snapped her book shut and the menacing sound reverberated throughout the room.

"Oh yeah, I kinda knew that," Finn said. He put her arm over Rachel's shoulder and grinned, pulling her in as he did so. "And I think it's pretty awesome that you and Quinn have been getting along with song writing and everything again."

This only caused Rachel to scowl further at Quinn, her glare still penetrating the side of her head.

And Finn was oblivious.

And also, water is wet.

"It is, it is," Santana said, nodding a little too eagerly. "And song writing? Mm. No, no. I don't think so. Try again."

"Huh?"

"Oh, oh." Brittany raised her hand up, wiggling her fingers as she bounced on her seat. "I know, I know."

"S," Quinn said, standing up. "Can I have a word with you outside?"

"And it _finally_ speaks. Thank you, lord, hallelujah," Santana said, raising her palms over her head before they unceremoniously dropped back to her sides. "And no, _you_ need to have a word with Yentl who's eyesexing you over there. Not me."

"S."

Rachel removed herself from Finn. "She's right, you know," Rachel said, also standing up. "You and I. We need to talk."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, but didn't look at Rachel. She stood there under the critical examination of all, as if judged. Even Finn was starting to get suspicious, turning his attention back and forth between Rachel and her.

Quinn started packing up. "I'm leaving."

Santana laughed. "Oh ho ho no, you don't. I'm sick and tired of dealing with your bullshit," Santana said. "Even I feel sorry for Berry. So you're not going anywhere."

"You can't keep me here."

"I can," Mr. Schuester said, approaching Quinn. "You need to sort whatever's going on between you and Rachel. Sectionals is coming up and I need you both to bring your 'A' game by the time we perform, and it's just not going to happen if you two are each other's throats."

Santana praised again. Finally, he was being a teacher.

"I agree," Finn said, standing beside Rachel. "I mean. I thought you were friends."

"Not now, Finn," Quinn said. "This is none of your business."

"It kinda is our business, Quinn," Kurt said.

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, and as much as I love the peace and quiet around here, Rachel doesn't deserve being treated like she's not here, you know?"

Santana turned around and raised her arms with her palms up. "Why, _thank you_ for finally chiming in."

Tina could only grumble at that. Mike could only comfort her so much.

"I don't need this," Quinn said.

"You do," Mr. Schuester said. "With the exception of Rachel and Quinn, you're all dismissed."

"You can't do this!"

"Again, yes, I can. Well, until five at least," Mr. Schuester said, ushering the kids to the door. "Think of this as some sort of timeout. Either that or detention with Sue."

Quinn could only watch as one by one, including Brad, left the music room.

—

Despite her assiduous attempts into opening the door, the knob barely budged. They were completely locked in.

"Congratulations," Quinn said. She turned around and nudged herself off the door. "Your little scheme worked. Are you happy now?"

Rachel gaped. "You think I planned this?"

"Well, who else would blow things out of proportion?" Quinn asked. She threw her book on the piano lid and sat on the bench, facing the keys as she ran her fingers across them.

"This is insane," Rachel said, marching right over to Quinn's side. "You're blaming _me_ for something _you _did." Rachel then threw her hands up in the air and whipped around. "No, wait. Never mind. That is _so_ like you."

Quinn sifted through the music sheet Brad left behind. "Ha."

Rachel turned around once more and returned to her side. "Quinn, I just want to talk. Like civilized people."

"And I just want you to leave me alone," Quinn said, looking up at Rachel.

"I know you want answers, too," Rachel said. "And we can find out if we just—"

Quinn's fingers pressed the keys a little too hardly for Rachel's taste, producing a note so off-key, it sounded ominous. "We just what?"

"If we just work together," Rachel said, her voice cracking. She wrapped her own arms around herself under Quinn's stare. "Quinn, I—I just. I just can't stay angry at you. A lot happened. There were four of you and—"

"Still standing by your story, I see," Quinn said, sneering.

"Will you just let me finish for once?" Rachel asked. "No matter how much you try to cut me off, it's truth," Rachel said. She stepped a little closer, putting less distance between them. "I can't make things up as I go, Quinn. Why can't you just do the same and be honest with yourself?"

"Because, Berry, and I want you to listen carefully," Quinn said as she stood up and faced her, their noses barely inches apart. "I'm not in love with you."

This was the first time in weeks Rachel got a close inspection of Quinn's face.

"I commend you for being such a good actress, Quinn, but… what are you so afraid of?"

Quinn appeared perturbed at that. And then in pain. Rachel had to catch Quinn from completely collapsing on the floor.

"Not again," Rachel said. Quinn's weight became too much and it resulted to Rachel ending up on the floor with the former right on top of her. "Great. Just great."

What now? Were they coming back? How did it usually go? Was Quinn going to completely split into four physical personalities again right in front of her eyes?

Three minutes passed by. And then five. And then ten.

Rachel eventually decided to push Quinn off of her, and with a grunt, she pulled Quinn by the arms. With a few close calls of falling again, Rachel was able to drag her to a corner in one piece where she made her sit upright against the wall. Rachel furrowed her brow after she grabbed the nearest chair and sat across Quinn's limp body.

And she watched.

* * *

><p>She glanced at the setting sun through the clerestories and then at the wall clock—it was almost 5:00 p.m.<p>

Nothing had happened and nothing was happening. Rachel had thought of calling out for help, but had dismissed that particular course of action entirely as it would have probably caused the entire school to shut down if Quinn would just happen to decide to do some sort of "quadfurcation", to which she had concluded when she had watched the paint peel on the other side of the wall.

Rachel's desire to keep this under wraps more so than getting out of this room was obvious, but as the clock continued to roll out, she started to fidget. She had neither excuse nor alibi if Mr. Schuester would just barge right in and find Quinn still unconscious. He would probably think she knocked her out, a feat she could never do even if she actually wanted to.

Quinn had gone through Sue Sylvester's Nine Circles of Hell for crying out loud. And Rachel's nearest thing to violence had been her insulting an award-winning choreographer who was shorter than her. Regardless of that fact, however, Mr. Schuester would definitely think that low of her.

Rachel stood up, approached Quinn's lifeless person, and then squatted in front of her.

"Please wake up," she said, patting Quinn's right cheek. "Come on, Quinn, you unrepentant, hopeless, ineradicable, inveterate blonde." Rachel paused after a beat. "Okay, I didn't mean that. Just please wake up before Mr. Schue thinks I gave you a concussion."

Rachel exhaled again, sitting down. She didn't care how disgusting the floor was anymore. Rachel looked at the time again – she only had seven minutes left.

Oh well. She guessed detention was exponentially better than having to explain why there just so happened to be four Quinns.

Rachel poked Quinn's forehead, pushing Quinn's head back. She giggled as she repeated it a few more times, before finally sighing when the feeling of childishness began to set in. Rachel crawled her way to Quinn's side.

"Well, this might be the only time where I can talk to you without being so angry at me, so…" Rachel said, before pausing. She laughed, shaking her head as she looked up. "This is stupid. I mean you clearly won't hear any of this anyway. But here I am, actually—ugh. "

Rachel eventually cleared her throat. Might as well.

"You know, I still can't forgive you for hurting the boys," she said as she sat down. "It was extremely cruel of you. And your means of courtship was by physically and mentally holding me against my will…" Rachel hugged her knees, her chin resting on them. "Well, it's working."

Rachel turned her head towards her.

"Or_ was_ working," she said. "I think it was you in all of them the whole time, but you're just so…" Rachel sighed again, reclining against the wall.

"I mean, the physical torment, the names," Rachel said, before smiling. "I finally get the pornographic drawings and that portrait of me with hearts around them. I'm just sorry I didn't realize until now. That I was oblivious to everything."

"I did a lot of thinking." Rachel could hear her thrashing heartbeat amidst the deafening silence. "I like you, Quinn," she said, closing her eyes. There. She said it. She had been the giving end of a confession more times than she could count, but this felt novel.

"But just know that I am willing to wait," Rachel said. "Now will you please just wake up before Mr. Schue comes in?"

Quinn didn't grow up in a household like hers. The pressures of being constantly perfect and the struggles she had been through, Quinn didn't have it easy in spite of what everyone thought. The only exception, however, was Rachel – she was the only one who understood. Quinn had everything to lose and it was ironic, though, that the pariah living under the bottom rung of the social ladder that had nothing could sympathize.

Quinn groaned and it was music to her ears. Rachel's body turned towards her and placed her hand on Quinn's shoulder as the latter stirred back into consciousness. Just in the nick of time, too.

"Oh, thank god," Rachel said. "Quinn?"

"What happened?" Quinn asked. Quinn squinted. The room transformed into a kaleidoscope right before her. "And why is the room spinning?"

"You've been out for a while," Rachel said. _For the zillionth time_, Rachel would like to add but decided against it.

"I was?" Quinn examined the area once it didn't threaten to trigger some sort of epilepsy. Her gaze settled back to Rachel's face. "So where are the others?"

"You mean our friends? They locked us in here, remember?"

Quinn shook head. "No, I mean, the other three," she said. Rachel stared wordlessly. "You know, the one who hunts zombies for a living, the female _Tarzan_, and the non-cannibal version of _Hannibal Lecter_?"

Rachel stood up and backed away slowly. "Who are you?"

Quinn's forehead crinkled as she patted herself. "I'm pretty sure I'm Quinn."

"Wait." Rachel pointed a finger at her. "You're that Quinn."

Quinn nodded before looking at her funny. "I—yes?"

"But where are the others?" Rachel asked, and then proceeded to gape at her. "Oh my god, are they dead?"

"I… don't know," Quinn said, getting herself off the floor. Rachel's panicked expression was infectious. "God, I hope not."

Both of them turned to the sound of the door's lock clicking and the door leaf creaking open. Kurt's impeccably coifed head and Blaine's overdone gelled hair peeked out of the opening.

"Hey, Rachel, Mr. Schue wanted us to get you two," Kurt said.

"Just open the fucking door." Santana pushed the door wide open and shoved her way through both of them. "They're just angry, not infected with tuberculosis."

Mercedes closely followed. "Are you two done fighting? 'Cause we kinda want to split out of here. We ain't your babysitters."

"_Please_ tell me I didn't miss anything—" Brittany smacked Puck on the back of the head. He rubbed the area, wincing. "Seriously? I didn't even get to finish what I was saying!"

"Sorry," Brittany said. "I just wanted to try it."

Finn lumbered his way through the human barricade and encroached into Rachel's space. His hands grasped her arms, as if checking her.

"Are you okay?"

Rachel nodded before glancing at Quinn, who came across as being overwhelmed under the scrutiny of her friends and then in awe when she walked over to where Mike was standing.

She hunched down and studied Mike's backpack.

"Is that all of the _Kanto_ badges?" Quinn asked.

Mike blinked. "Uh, yeah."

"No way. They're metal trimmed too," Quinn said, inspecting the _Rainbow Badge_ pinned to the shoulder strap between her forefinger and thumb. "How do you keep it in such mint condition, though?"

Mike and Tina looked at each other. "I'm… just careful with it?"

A hush fell over them and Rachel took this opportunity to leave with Quinn.

"Okay, that's enough, Quinn," Rachel said, walking past Finn and over to Quinn. "If you'll excuse us."

She grabbed her by the arm and pulled Quinn out of her stupor, the latter stumbling in tandem with the former's unfailing strides.

"Thanks for getting us and we'll see you tomorrow!"

* * *

><p>Rachel breathed out a sigh once they finally arrived at the school's entrance.<p>

"Did I do something wrong?" Quinn asked, frowning as she rubbed the arm Rachel had been holding like a vice grip.

Rachel eyebrows shot up. "I—uh, no," she said. "No, you didn't."

"Oh, okay," Quinn said. "What now?"

"Could you take us home?" Rachel asked. "My house, I mean. We kind of need to talk."

Rachel felt the dire need to regroup. She would have to call Santana and Brittany later.

Quinn shrugged, reaching for her car keys in her back pocket. "I don't see why not."

* * *

><p><em>Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Tell her we're in your head.<em>

"Whoah," Quinn said, hitting the brakes. Rachel would have flown right through the windshield if it weren't for the seatbelt. "Did you hear that?"

Rachel groaned. The whiplash literally took her breath away.

"Jesus, Quinn," Rachel said, kneading the back of her neck. "And hear what?"

_Serial Killer Quinn: Boo._

"There it is again," Quinn said, looking around.

"I didn't hear anything, Quinn. Please, I don't have time for this," Rachel said. "Can we go before the police come by and ticket us?"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm going," Quinn said, shifting gears.

* * *

><p><em>Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: This is all your fault, by the way. Now we're stuck.<em>

_Serial Killer Quinn: Didn't think the side effects would be this bad. _

_Lion Quinn: I want to go home._

_Quinn: So Rachel wasn't kidding you're all real._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Nope. She was telling the truth. Rachel was trying to explain but you were being such a bitch. So. There's that._

Dork Quinn drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and glimpsed at Rachel – she was busy scanning the car radio.

"At least I know you're all still alive, somehow," Dork Quinn said, murmuring.

Rachel turned the volume down. "Did you say something?"

Dork Quinn shook her head a little too forcefully. "Uh, no."

She cursed inwardly; it suddenly felt like a knife went through her skull.

"Are you okay? You're sweating bullets," Rachel said.

"I'm fine," Quinn said. Her knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel.

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Should we stop talking before she gets us all killed?_

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Quinn: No, I want answers. _

_Serial Killer Quinn: Amazing. You finally want answers. So calm and collected, too._

_Quinn: Shut up. So where exactly are we? And how is this even remotely possible?_

_Serial Killer Quinn: We're in her head, obviously. And how all of this is possible, that's really up to you. But when this… "gateway" was severed, we finally understood that you're not unlike a gateway of ours. _

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Again, it's her fault. With the drug she injected into herself. _

_Serial Killer Quinn: That's right. By yours truly._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: That wasn't a compliment._

_Quinn: So what you're saying is I'm some sort of… vessel?_

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Not exactly. We were split into four._

_Quinn: So why did this happen?_

Dork Quinn swallowed as the acid aftertaste lingered. She was getting nauseous.

"_If you all could just stop talking,"_ Dork Quinn said internally. _"Just until I can get Rachel home safely. Please."_

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Serial Killer Quinn: Shush._

* * *

><p>Dork Quinn could barely walk by the time they got to Rachel's house. She staggered out of the vehicle and bumped into the hood, her hands resting on it as it supported almost all of her weight.<p>

Rachel unbuckled her seatbelt as she followed the nauseated Dork Quinn with her eyes. She quickly got out of the car.

"You look like hell," Rachel said, rushing over to Quinn's side as she barely caught her.

"I'm fine… you really don't need to carry me," Quinn said once Rachel had seized her arm, put it around her neck, and had her free hand clutch the former's waist.

"Trust me, I'm used to this," Rachel said. "I just hope you're not going to pass out on me again. Although, you have may have improved my voice with me lugging you around, which is always a plus. Did you know lower back muscles are one of the most overlooked when studying voice? My lower back has always been my weakness. And you've strengthened it quite considerably and my breathing has been a lot better."

"I think it's my weakness, too," Dork Quinn said.

_Quinn:_ _Please tell me Rachel doesn't fall for this bull._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: I hope not._

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Serial Killer Quinn: Didn't I just tell you all to be quiet?_

"_Shut up."_

"Oh? Then we can always practice," Rachel said, beaming. "I think I have _just_ the perfect solo for you to sing the next time we have glee."

"Sure," Dork Quinn said. "But uh, resting sure would be nicer than singing right now."

"Oh, right." Rachel said. The look of sheepishness didn't escape her, but it was only there for a split-second until they reached the porch steps. "Just one step at a time, okay, Quinn?"

And slowly but surely, they got to the door. Rachel fumbled with the house keys and inserted the right one into the keyhole after a few misses. As soon as they were in, Rachel guided Dork Quinn to the living room couch, where the latter immediately laid down without complaint. The couch obediently shifted as Rachel sat on what available space was left, which was right against Quinn's stomach.

"Let me just put our things in my room. Are you going to be okay?" Rachel asked, putting her palm on Dork Quinn's forehead.

Dork Quinn made a sound that could only be interpreted as a "yes", curling around Rachel.

"Do you want anything?"

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: If you say "you" I swear to god..._

"_Damn it. Fine."_

"Just do what you need to do," Dork Quinn said, waving her off lazily.

"Okay."

The couch shifted again once Rachel's weight left.

_Quinn: She's gone. Now explain._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: I'm not surprised that you're not freaked out about all of this. _

_Quinn: Well, Rachel _did _set me up with this whole "Quinnception" idea. So, spill. _

_Serial Killer Quinn: We're from different alternate realities. Think of…_

"_Multiverse_," Dork Quinn said under her breath. _"_from _Marvel_, just in case you didn't know. Multiple versions of you."

_Serial Killer Quinn: Right. _

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: And you're our portal. And how we got here? It's up to you._

_Quinn: You just said that a while ago. _

_Serial Killer Quinn: She means it's psychological. _

_Quinn: So I'm schizophrenic. _

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Oh no, we're real. _

_Serial Killer Quinn: You just brought us here because of something._

_Quinn: And what is that something?_

_Serial Killer Quinn: That's only for you to know._

_Quinn: This cryptic bullshit is just obnoxious._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: It's the truth. We actually don't know. And now we're sort of in a standstill between our individual realities and yours. _

"_Except me."_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Lucky you._

_Serial Killer Quinn: More like lucky us. If she weren't an exception right now, who knows what would have happened. We could have probably been erased completely from actuality._

_Quinn: So… how do we fix this?_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Not we. You._

_Quinn: In case you didn't notice, I'm stuck in here with you three and with her out there._

_Serial Killer Quinn: She's got a point. Maybe something will trigger some sort of existential occurrence and set everything back to normal._

"_So, what do I do?"_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: No idea._

"_Great." _Dork Quinn was getting groggier by the second. _"Okay. Timeout. I feel like shit right now."_

A moment passed without incident and Rachel returned with an ice pack, a blanket, and a few DVDs on hand.

"I know this isn't exactly the time to relax and unwind, but do you want to do a movie night with me once you're feeling better?" Rachel asked as she handed the ice pack to Dork Quinn and set the rest of the things down on the coffee table.

"Thanks," Dork Quinn said. She sighed as she placed the pack on her forehead. Dork Quinn eyed the sedentary _Rocky Horror Picture Show _that laid on the top of the meagre pile as she shakily sat up and scooted away to give space for Rachel. "And sure."

"My dads won't be home tonight."

"Oh, okay?"

Rachel nodded to herself, unable to hold eye contact with Dork Quinn. "So…"

"So…?"

Rachel cleared her throat. "Right. Uhm. You pick the first movie."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Can we watch _Rocky Horror_?" Dork Quinn asked.

"Sure. Let me set it up," Rachel said, moving towards the home theatre with the DVD.

_Serial Killer Quinn: If I could slap you right now, I would._

"_Huh?"_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Tell me, if someone tells you that their parents won't be home, what do you think that means?_

"_It means that we're alone together?"_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: And?_

"_And…?"_

_Lion Quinn: No. Just no._

"_No?"_

_Quinn: Please don't give her ideas._

_Serial Killer Quinn: And please stop being in denial about everything._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: It means she wants you._

"_Wants me to what?"_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: You're impossible._

_Serial Killer Quinn: She wants you to fuck her, genius._

Dork Quinn gulped—the constant pressure in her head seemed like a faraway sensation. Her gaze rested on the back of Rachel's thighs as she bent down. The click of the DVD case being shut closed made Dork Quinn jolt.

"Sorry it took a minute there," Rachel said. A crease formed between her eyebrows as she juggled three remote controls, returning to Quinn's side and sitting down beside her. "I always watch on my laptop." Rachel laughed. "I never knew watching movies could be this complicated."

When she didn't hear a reply, Rachel looked up, ceasing her from tinkering with the controls.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked. "I know I'm being repetitive but, if you're really feeling unwell, you could just sleep."

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Idiot._

"Quinn?"

_Lion Quinn: Speak._

"Hello?"

_Serial Killer Quinn: I swear if you don't spit out a sentence, I'll have your body disembowelled and stuffed._

"Yeah, sorry," Dork said, her laugh completely out of place. "It's just hot."

"Do you want me to turn on the air-conditioner?"

"Uh, no. It's fine, really, I'm fine. Totally fine," Dork Quinn said.

_Quinn: I can't believe I have a halfwit of an alter-ego. _

Rachel stared.

"Really. Don't worry about me," Dork Quinn said, racking her brain for a tangent.

_Quinn: The remotes._

"_Thank you!" _

"Do you want me to help you with the remotes?"

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, thanks," Rachel said, passing the devices to her.

After only a few moments of fiddling with them, the television came to life. Dork Quinn took consolation to the fact that she was actually adroit with technology after hearing a chorus of sighs and murmurs of her being a clueless imbecile. And besides, Rachel appeared impressed when she got the elusive home theatre to be cooperative and had _Rocky Horror_ to start.

And subtitles, too!

Dork Quinn eventually sat up a little straighter, throwing a lopsided smile at Rachel as she watched her animated, vibrant expressions during _Dammit Janet_.

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Put your arm around her. _

"_I… I don't know."_

_Quinn: I can't believe you're encouraging her. She has a boyfriend._

_Serial Killer Quinn: Can it, Janet._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: She's just jealous. Now, do it. And please don't do that yawning thing._

Dork Quinn swallowed and her arm slowly crept up and went around Rachel's shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

Dork Quinn immediately reclaimed her right arm. "Sorry. I was just stretching."

"No," Rachel said, fiddling her fingers. "It's okay. Uhm. Go ahead."

"Oh." She lifted her arm, briefly stopped mid-way, and then wrapped it around Rachel once more.

The two were rigid, unmoving as if the contact alone was strained and arduous. Rachel was unable to immerse herself into the movie despite _Tim Curry's_ riveting performance. She was caught off-guard, however, that the harmless proximity within each other's personal space just by this action alone affected her more than the previous "misencounters" she had with the other Quinns.

And the two remained in that inflexible position until the credits, only because Rachel had patted Dork Quinn's thigh to signal her to stop the movie and asked her to play _West Side Story_, although they didn't move once that latter did as she was told. The voices in her head didn't help either, having stopped bothering when Dork Quinn had made it clear that if they were going to talk again, she would pass out sooner or later and the level of guilt of doing that to Rachel again would become immeasurable.

They stopped talking at the same time they stopped moving.

The second time that assured each other that they were still alive and well was at around 10:00 p.m. and the night was cooler than usual, and that Rachel silently asked for the unremembered blanket, to which Dork Quinn had to remove herself from her and made it her duty to envelop it around themselves with its warmth.

The third time was Dork Quinn's pick, _Repo! The Genetic Opera_.

The fourth time was at around 4:00 a.m., when they finally steered clear of musicals and Rachel fell asleep during _The Hunger Games_, her head drifting to Dork Quinn's chest. The former subconsciously curled around her, her breaths steady. Dork Quinn inhaled sharply as she weighed out her options before a solid ten minutes passed and decided to softly wake a disoriented Rachel just alert enough to have her between her legs so she could wrap herself around her, with Rachel's back against her front. She was about to prop her legs on the coffee table when Rachel groggily told her not to.

"That is mahogany," Rachel had said.

Rachel hummed at the same time when she exhaled when, instead, Dork Quinn nuzzled into her neck, the latter breathing in her scent.

_Quinn: That's kind of creepy, if you ask me. _

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: At least she finally made a move._

"_Guys, what did I tell you making a commentary about everything?"_

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Serial Killer Quinn: It was getting boring. You're boring._

_Quinn: I can't believe that you're doing this._

_Serial Killer Quinn: She's you. _

_Quinn: That is not me. I wouldn't do this. I'm not in love with Rachel._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Tsk, tsk. Excuses, excuses._

"_Please stop. You're going to make me pass out again."_

_Lion Quinn: No._

_Serial Killer Quinn: We can't let her sleep. Not until we know that nothing bad will happen if she does._

_Quinn: And how, exactly, can we "know" anything if we're here?_

_Serial Killer Quinn: If we weren't disembodied right now, I'm seriously reconsidering murdering you. What's with all the questions?_

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: Just let her think._

_Quinn: This should not be happening. This cannot be happening. Please tell me this is just some elaborate dream._

_Zombie Apocalypse Quinn: If you could just make up your mind whether you believe us or not, that would be great. _

The voices stopped again.

6:00 a.m. came and the smell of coffee invited itself into the living room—the sound of the alarm was shut off this time. Then a knock.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked, still in a sleepy haze.

"Rachel?"

Rachel's eyes shot open, but didn't move. "Finn."

"Should I tell him go away?" Dork Quinn asked.

"I—no, I mean," Rachel said. It was too early—and it wasn't for her routinely elliptical workout. "Just stay, okay?"

Dork Quinn nodded before she let go of Rachel, who tiptoed all the way to the entrance door.

"Hey, Finn," Rachel said, hiding behind the door as she leaned onto it. "You're here earlier than usual."

"Uh, yeah." Finn scratched his head. Rachel pursed her lips at the action. "I was worried. You did, kinda, just bailed on me yesterday."

It was still too early in the morning to correct his grammar.

"Sorry, Finn," Rachel said. "I suddenly remembered that I still had unfinished homework."

"Oh, okay," Finn said. He began to shift around. "So, I know this pretty cool diner nearby. Their bacon is amazing. Want to get breakfast there?"

Rachel's face became unreadable, tense. "No, thank you for the offer, though. I'll see you at school."

"I—"

_Slam._

Finn's outline remained before it finally gave up and left when calling out Rachel's name and numerous variations of "did I say something wrong?" were futile attempts into bringing her back.

"Did someone say bacon?" Dork Quinn asked, her head peeking out of the living room. She noticed Rachel's tight expression. "I'll… be in the kitchen, then."

* * *

><p>"Here you go," Quinn said, setting down a plate in front of Rachel, who eventually had followed her into the kitchen and had watched her cook. "Mini <em>Pikachu <em>pancakes with fruit and syrup." Rachel glanced at her and then back at the stack. "Don't worry. They're all vegan. I checked the ingredients and everything."

Rachel said nothing as she forked the whole grain mix and ate a piece of _Pikachu's ear_.

"You don't have to eat it," Quinn said immediately when Rachel's frown remained intact as she ate through her fourth piece.

"…Finn forgot that I'm vegan," Rachel said.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, taking off the apron. She sat down beside Rachel, who was now staring blankly at the almost empty plate.

"I'm not mad," she said. "I mean, I am. But... not as much as I expected myself to be?" Rachel sighed. "I don't know. I guess I don't care anymore. Clearly Finn doesn't, seeing as he doesn't even bother to even remember what my diet is."

Rachel put her fork down and then faced her. "I didn't know you could cook, though. And it's delicious, by the way. Thank you."

Quinn smiled. "No problem."

Rachel smiled back. "Also, I just ate _Pikachu_, didn't I?"

"I'm so glad that you at least know who _Pikachu _is," Quinn said, beaming.

Rachel laughed. "You're such a dork."

"I hope you like dorks," Quinn said.

"Dork or not," Rachel said. She slightly parted her lips as she leaned closer. "I like you."

Quinn's cheeks reddened by the second as she subconsciously mimicked Rachel, the space between them lessening considerably.

* * *

><p>"<em>Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Guys. Help."<em>

No answer.

"_Guys!"_

_Lion Quinn: No._

Dork Quinn felt her throat going dry when Rachel's eyes fluttered close. She steeled herself and pushed herself in for a kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled away at the same time, a smile creeping up on both of their lips as they looked at each other.

Rachel licked her lips, her eyes downcast as she tucked a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. Dork Quinn could only grin from to ear to ear.

"I wish Quinn was as honest as you," Rachel said, her features suddenly sober. "Or am I just being delusional for thinking that she actually likes me?"

A solemn expression replaced Dork Quinn's smile. She swung around on her stool to face her own plate of untouched bacon and with crossed arms, leaned on the breakfast bar.

"She likes you," Dork Quinn said. "She's just scared, that's all."

"I'm willing to wait," Rachel said. "But it would take a miracle for her to open up."

Dork Quinn laughed.

"Sorry." Rachel couldn't help but smile. The weight of grasping what was happening was finally removed from her shoulders. "Maybe more than four miracles?"

"You may not notice it, but she's got a soft spot for you," Dork Quinn said. "You just need to be patient. Let her… see it in her own time, but sort of push her towards the right direction. It sounds complicated and tricky, and it is, but… I think she's worth it." She looked right in Rachel's eye. "Quinn's in love with you, Rachel. She's terrified 'cause, as clichéd as it is, she doesn't want to scare you, too, and end up losing you and your friendship. It's rocky enough as it is. Plus with Finn around…"

Rachel's shoulders relaxed. "Finn is clearly out of the equation, as you can tell. She's making this more difficult than it actually is."

"Then tell her that," Dork Quinn said. "But it's never black and white. Plus, being gay isn't as… simple to her as it is to you."

Rachel gave a lengthy nod. "…For how long?"

"For how long what?"

"How long has she…?"

"Oh." Dork Quinn stared into the distance, before returning her gaze to Rachel. "A long time," Dork Quinn said, before touching Rachel's arm. "But don't feel guilty. She was still, _is_ still, sorting things out."

"I'm just sorry I didn't notice until recently."

"Don't blame yourself," Dork Quinn said. "She's pretty good at repressing her own feelings." Rachel nodded in reply. "Just don't let her realize too late."

"Thank you," Rachel said, not being able to find any other appropriate response for her advice.

Dork Quinn's hand slid down to Rachel's own. "It'll be okay."

Rachel leaned forward and kissed Dork Quinn's cheek. "You're sweet."

"I do try," Dork Quinn said. "Also, talking in third person is weird."

The sound of Rachel's laughter resonated throughout the kitchen once more, and a discarnate Quinn could only witness the scene.


End file.
